Bubbles
Imagine your love as a bubble. It kind of glows around you. It doesn't have any physical substance but it is real, it has strength, it comes from you, it is all you have with which to communicate.
We all have our bubble, some are bigger than others, some are more tangible than others, some might be so small that the love does not extend beyond the physical boundary of the body (which is a shame).
When bubbles touch love mingles. Bubbles touch whenever we communicate. Love is the same, unchanging, whoever we are. We choose the way and how much we let our love mingle with that of others, we give it the character we choose, either consciously or subconsciously. It is the mixing that gives it the character that we are able to feel. This depends on our relationships, be it as lovers, as family, as friends, colleagues, strangers, whatever. Love is the same, we feel it for each other in different ways. It is how we choose to communicate our love that determines how we treat one another, we mix it together and it shapes us as we shape it. It is our window on the world. It mixes in as many ways as there are people, each way different, determined by respect. It makes us who we are, not necessarily who we think we are.
That's my little theory anyway.
Chapter fifteen...
The ancient Masters were profound and subtle.
Their wisdom was unfathomable.
There is no way to describe it;
all we can describe is their appearance.
They were careful as someone crossing an iced-over stream.
Alert as a warrior in enemy territory.
Courteous as a guest.
Fluid as melting ice.
Shapable as a block of wood.
Receptive as a valley.
Clear as a glass of water.
Do you have the patience to wait until your mud settles and the water is clear?
Can you remain unmoving until the right action arises by itself?
The Master doesn't seek fulfillment.
Not seeking, not expecting, she is present, and can welcome all things.
