Love is The Only Way To Live That Is Not Insane
This morning my lover said, “I want to see everyone as love.”
Helluva goal, huh?
But I have a question…
Does she sound insane?
To the parents of my son’s friend who drove himself off Sunset Blvd and into the blood-sudden sunset of his own life the other night at two AM, boozed up and with not a care in the world?
Does she sound insane to them?
Does she sound insane to the family of my friend Adam S. who wrapped himself up in a plastic bag last weekend and gassed himself to death, unsure of what to make of his sweet existence?
Does she sound Insane to the buzzing vet who wrote the article I just read in Esquire - fresh from Iraq, teetering between the tit of pot and the tit of booze to make life bearable in his squalid, now wife-less flat?
Does she sound Insane? Airy-fairy? Idealisting, unrealistic, too Californian?
Maybe.
Or maybe not…
Maybe NOT having the goal of seeing everyone as love is insane.
One of my favorite teachers, David Deida, writes, “Love is the only way to live that is not insane.”
Look at the hand of a dying mother clutching her son’s hand.
Look at the delight in the eyes of a child when her peekaboo daddy’s face re-appears from behind the seeming obliteration of his hands.
Look at the warmth that flows between two men when one just casually calls the other, “brother.”
Love is the thing that turns the hard clock of time into music.
And each of us, in each moment, is a high note. Or a steady base line. A blurt. An arpeggio. A whistle. A cry of the heart. A lullaby.
You only have to listen.
Is that insane?
Was my lover insane for saying it…
“I want to see everyone as love.”
No. She is listening.
Everyone IS love.
Twisted maybe.
Love, painted over and tossed.
Love, gnarled like bonsai branches by fingers of anger or jealousy or lost hope.
Love, squeezed flat and explosive like a blocked firehose or suffocating under brittle shells of I’m-not-good-enoughs or buried inside the old calcified echoes of parents’ scorn.
But it’s love.
Because somewhere inside, like a firebug in a dark cavern, each of us is love waiting to be called out.
You already know this.
So call.
Call while there is still time.
Call if you have even one pulse of life left in your veins.
Tell me, beloved…
With whom would you rather live?
Someone who sees everyone as a sinner? As an obstacle? As a tool?
Someone who sees everyone as a stepping stone to greater wealth or personal glory?
Someone who sees others first as people with dumb or wrong ideas? Or as a bundle of any ideas at all?
Or would you rather live with someone who disciplines him or herself everyday to see others as love?
Think…
Because that person, that friend, that lover, that child is not only looking out at the world – that person is looking at you, too.
What do you want him or her to see as those eyes fall on you?
And think…
How does that beloved person of yours want you to see him? To see her? As obstacle? As nuisance?
Or as love waiting to be called into the warm light?
Mmmmmmm.
Make life easy for those you love.
Be love.
Even when you can’t easily see the love in others.
Be love.
Fearlessly.
It’s not hard like calculus or organic chem.
It’s like tennis. Or bowling. Or not burning lamb chops.
It just takes practice.
And practice makes us less imperfect.
If never perfect.
And always perfect.
Be love imperfectly.
Just be love.
Now.
With Love,
- 5 Am Thoughts, September 27
