It's been a while.
When I really love someone, deeply love without equivocation, I have experiences beyond description with any words. The effort to convey actually diminishes the experience. My Love for some people, or because of some people, creates a mystical space in which there are seemingly whole other spaces, as if filled with other beings who also love and create space.
I know, or better yet, I become this space that has no limit. Loosely filling that space is a host of sentient beings whose only intention is to make the space available for my unconditional positive regard to expand. They are like you might expect angels to be if you took away the stereotypical notions. Rather than spectacles of light or shimmering, winged ghost-like creatures they are simply beings, differing from each other and familiar at the same time. The space that opens up and allows greater awareness just because I love unconditionally. Fearlessly.
I believe this is why we sigh. We long for a glimpse of the beyond.
UPDATE
I've been reading in a book loaned to me by Roger, my brother-in-law. It's titled ONLY ONE SKY. It is a series of talks given by Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, ISBN0-525-47440-4 copyright 1975.
After having an interesting experience which inspired the first two paragraphs of this post I found myself a few days later reading a page in this book while visiting Roger. It carried a short note regarding the very experience. Rather than quoting the entire explanation of the experience as he stated it I'll quote the short phrase that sums up the rule which when followed creates the experience. From page 17, "When you love, you become nobody. If you remain a somebody then love never happens."
In and about 1988 I wrote a series of poems reflected my deep, painful longing for a return to being "nobody."
This is one of those poems.
“Death”
From Queen to Witch, Kali Ma,
Tears You limb from limb.
The flesh is rent, torn from bones,
Amidst a raucous din.
Futile schemes and selfish plans,
Abruptly come to end.
Centuries of structured mind
An image I defend.
Weeds that root, in rocky soil,
As trees they would pretend.
Starved for loves nurtured way,
Blown by fears great wind.
Clutching threads of mindful scorn,
Swiping at the air.
The ego's plan of wasting death,
My heart it would ensnare.
Falling helpless, through the night,
Pleading in despair,
Creates demise, all of its own
As Shiva's light lays bare.
Slowly dawns, the break of day,
The sun without a care,
Drenches dreams of Wholly Being
Child of God so fair.
