“I am not sure that I exist, actually. I am all the writers that I have read, all the people that I have met, all the women that I have loved; all the cities that I have visited.” ~ Jorge Luis Borges
He loves me. He loves me not.
Picking at wilting wildflowers plucked from the vine. I flash back to a decade ago. So much insecurity I could scarcely see until now, from the vantage point of early midlife, even-keeled, authentic happiness. So much contentment it’s almost boring (but not quite).
I don’t miss the infinite craving, the streams of sobs, the conscious choice to put myself through hell for half a night of faux-romance, lust and desperation masquerading as love.
You and I have separate bodies, yes. But do we have separate minds? Maybe not.
The consciousness of humanity is not owned by any particular human, but rather by all of us as a holy whole. We seem to possess separate minds, but what if that’s an illusion?
When I write, something is moving through me that is not just me. It is me, plus more than me. It is me and it is you, and it is the energy of everything.
What if our hearts are not our own?
We are all unique and beautiful snowflakes, just like everybody else, to paraphrase the sage comedian Swami Beyondananda. Our human emotions and animal compassion and personal passions are common to us all. The licuado of our feelings (which are all mixed together and impossible to segregate) is what gives flavor to our every moment.
“There is no such thing as living alone, for all living is relationship.” ~ J. Krishnamurti
We are conditioned to think that “relationship” means, above all, romance.
The One, soulmate, life partner, happily-ever-after ideal. The love/marriage relationship is placed on a pedestal above all else—in Hollywood movies and popular literature, on television and in blogs, essays, articles and stories.
We are conditioned to believe that relationships are primarily with people, have specific beginnings and ends and can be compartmentalized into convenient boxes: partner, kids, family, friends, acquaintances, pets, strangers, race/ethnicity, gender/sexual preference, self-love, devotion.
The reality is that we are nature, and nature is us. We are the universe, and the universe is us.
We are related to the mountains, trees, stars and stones just as much as we are to our parents, cousins, sisters, brothers, lovers and haters.
Everything is relationship. Nothing is not relationship.
J. Krishnamurti said:
“Relationship is our problem, and without understanding relationship, merely to be active is to produce further confusion, further misery. Action is relationship: to be is to be related. Do what you will; withdraw—to the mountains, sit in a forest—you cannot live in isolation. You can live only in relationship, and as long as relationship is not understood, there can be no right action. Right action comes in understanding relationship, which reveals the process of oneself. Self-knowledge is the beginning of wisdom; it is a field of affection, warmth, and love, therefore a field rich with flowers.”
I’ve lived in Guatemala for almost seven years. I have never been more ignorant of U.S. presidential politics than I am right now, by choice. Even so, I get the gist of what’s happening. As easy (and often entertaining) as it is to believe that Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump (nee Drumpf) are 100 percent pure villains, ruined by riches and corrupted by corporations, is it really helpful to paint them, or anyone, in such ridiculous caricatures?
They may be stereotypical politicians representing the old system, but they capture our attention because so many of us still believe in the power and necessity of that system.
Is it helpful to shoot arrows at the other camp? Can we instead, ourselves, as individuals, choose to move away from polarized extremes and back toward the middle, the center, the core?
Can we revolutionize our relationship to “relationship?”
Above all, can we elect love?
Author: Michelle Margaret Fajkus
Editor: Toby Israel