Someone once told me that you know how much you actually care for something or someone when your desire for it’s good overshadows and eventually overtakes any thought of personal gain or profit that may have first drawn you to it. I don’t know who said this to me so many years ago, but it’s been mulling around in my heart and my head ever since. And the more I live the more I realize how much I believe it.
There is an odd connection somewhere in our minds that I fancy shouldn’t be there at all. It’s as if some secret treaty has been signed, stating that in order to care for something, we must make a claim upon it, or at the very least glean some good for ourselves from it.
Only natural, you say, and I’m sure you’re right. Natural yes……but good? I’m not sure.
When we say we care for something, the first thoughts in our mind seem to be self-desire, to have that thing be a part of us. Our life, our possession, our name. But if that thing or that person is what we claim to care for, why is the focal point suddenly ourselves? I mean really, we have nothing to do with it.
Must we obtain in order to care deeply for something? I would dare suggest the opposite may be true. It seems that it is when we allow something to flourish towards it’s best, with or without ourselves in mind, that is when we begin to actually care for it. Once we start to allow ‘self’ to creep into the picture, the natural human heart seems to forget what love is. Suddenly we think it is all about us, and we begin to grasp.
‘Love’ that restrains, keeps or controls for oneself is not love at all, it is something else altogether which I currently have no name for. But humans do it all the time, and we call it love. But love can have nothing to do with self-fulfillment, it is an act of outward impartment, not inward.
How has it become something so altered? Why do we paint the picture that love is getting what you want and holding to it when it couldn’t be further from the truth?
Oh my, I’ve done it again haven’t I. I’m sorry. I’ve gone off on my love/freedom tangent and asked you to come along. I’m afraid I cannot keep quiet about this one, my friend, it may be my soapbox. I’ve discovered something beautiful in letting things be what they are, cherishing them apart from myself. It’s freeing and extraordinary to experience love in this way, so different from what our culture and world might suggest.
To love something for what it is and not for what it does for me is, perhaps, a taste of heaven.