The love I have is the love I give

Grief, my perpetual teacher, morphs and changes the longer we are acquainted.

These days it’s teaching me about balance.

About honoring the past, but living in the present.

About having versus losing.

About not letting an irrational yet understandable fear of more loss break both of my legs.

You see, losing my dad at 10 years old and my husband at 39 has me sometimes walking around with a protective armor on. (Imagine that?) I know when I’m wearing it. It makes my heart both race and constrict. My palms sweat and I feel suffocated.

I don’t want to withhold or close off though. I won’t withhold or close off.  That is my mission. I want my heart to stay soft and open.

My heart must stay soft and open.

Otherwise, what’s the point?

A lifetime of deep loss is teaching me a lifetime of lessons that I hope to get to avoid having to learn in my next life.

Granted, the large lessons take more practice than my small ego-centric brain thinks they should, but I can tell that the work is worthwhile. Perhaps the most worthwhile.

What is the universe showing me now that it’s time to learn?

That I can count on me. That I belong to me. That I can and will always take care of me. No matter what. That, regardless of my fears, I am safe and secure. That I don’t hurt me. That I am always here for me.

That if I am love, I will always have love.

That the love I have is the love I give is the love I have is the love I give. And on and on.

Photo by my dear friend Carla. August 2018, Vancouver, BC.

 

 

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