Finding Love To Be Our Essence

I was doing my own diagnosis in one sense, in another sense I would run to friends for advice; something I’d never done in my life before. I needed them because of someone I’d met who seemed born to confuse others. Even proud of it I suppose.

I was his opposite. It wasn’t going to be easy sailing. Not at all. I thought he was like a Bi Essence. That to mean, not in a sexual way, for he was heterosexual insofar as he told me he was.

You could never be sure these days who was what. I’d been hit on by two gay women before, it had not been pleasant. I was the friendly, trusting type. I’d craved only a best friend from kindergarten on. Others craved something else, but most craved Love or their definition of Love. One thing I learned, for awhile there was only constant craving to mark our individual journeys. Life was going to wise me up the hard way. The thing was everybody around me could see what I couldn’t, but they only mentioned it when I asked. People were like God, God didn’t answer unless you spoke first. God was like everything unknown that teased you, making you feel itchy curiosity.

With this guy I started out trusting and ended pulling my hair out screaming “I’ve gone insane and can’t even tell anyone!”

At least, I wasn’t bored. When you’ve gone insane, you’re always interested and puffing about with a multitude of different emotions. There’s not a moment to relax in insanity. Eventually if you keep it up you can age 10 years overnight, look in the mirror and discover someone old, whom you’ve never met.

This whole affair was just an Internet affair from start to finish, unless you counted the time he showed up on my town’s little ferry dock, looking as usual like the cock of the walk, then sliding into the darkness, striding away fast, and leaving me with my insanity to work out on my own.

I couldn’t determine if he’d come to kill me or if he just wanted a look see at the one woman in his life who wouldn’t bow down to the king. Maybe in my various lives, I’d met too many kings and discovered they were only men wearing the images of their kingdom. Full recall was certainly not something the Gods bequeathed us when we made our dives into denseness.

I’d gotten up one morning and it hit me what he really meant with some offhand words he’d thrown at me. I was always looking for love under rocks. He was no different, I might have been looking for love without admitting it. I’d said to him “you can talk to me. I’m harmless.” And also I’d said I loved him, something I wasn’t used to saying. I’d also said I trusted him. Same thing as saying I love you, I suppose. Years later, I’d realize I really wasn’t harmless. I could hurt someone without even realizing that I’d done that, and I myself could be hurt and not be able to explain the why or the how of it.

He’d come back to me, as cocky and sure as he was, with the remark “are you sure you want to do this?” I flew into a tizzy wondering about a good comeback. At the time it was like he delivered a warning in that statement. Later, I thought, this was his way of trying to give me an out. An out I hadn’t conceived I wanted. I could have taken the out and saved myself a lot of trouble. Now I can see, he might have been thinking of my welfare, and to protect someone is almost like loving them. I wanted to see only love, for I believed, and still do, we are all love in essence. All else is distortion of love.

I couldn’t quite believe a stranger on the Internet, a stranger I’d only met in my mind and on the astral planes, would say such a thing in response to my query that he could talk to me.

When does talking equate to “doing this?” And what exactly were we “doing?” Or about to do. I was so in the present, so in the now moment I rarely perceived the future. All I had was now. Tomorrow wasn’t here yet, and yesterday was certainly gone.

Certainly, if someone starts a relationship off with a warning, the going will not be any easier than the arrival point. But at least he’d said something and if I could get him to talk to me we might have a friendship. Gaining a lasting friendship around this joint is certainly difficult, let alone reaching for intimacy. Some do gain that circumstance and then they run to Facebook and tell everyone.

It’s just kissing and telling. We’ve done it for centuries. This particular morning as I reflected on the past remark “are you sure you want to do this?” It was like the age old question from some dead philosopher “to be, or not to be, that is the question.”

He wasn’t saying “I love you” this time. He was asking me if I was certain. It was like you would go sky diving for the first time and the guide would say, you can still change your mind you know. You can convince yourself you’ve nothing to lose. When you get old, you’ve already lost your youth and the energy, enthusiasm and passion of pursuing your dreams, all of this you cannot lose twice, or can you? You can lose your sanity however; at least in brief moments of revelry that can last far too long for comfort.

If I’d been smart I would have responded simply, “no, I don’t want to do this, I was just greeting you, saying hello.” I would have walked away surmising he didn’t want or need just a measly friendship; he’d probably had all the friends he could ever hope for, so who was I to to be hitting him up to talk to me? The more I think about this encounter, the more audacious I look to myself.

I was looking for love, and when he’d asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this, he was asking himself if he was sure he wanted to do this. For he was experiencing the same confusion and insanity that I was. Although I was looking for love, I knew I would be happy with crumbs of love thrown my way. I did get a few crumbs here and there so I can’t complain about my life, what I consider a common life meeting up with uncommon people.

Sometimes you got lucky. Other times you bit the bullet. Sometimes you left youthful persuasions to the youthful, and sometimes you just said to yourself when the moon was full, I survived, there’s something to be said for the resilient among us and in the loving, I love myself, within a retrospective viewpoint, of course!

I’m not finished. There’s always more to say. It’s the nature of our present world to be counted. What you say counts, in some measure, to somebody else. You can count on this to be true. Listen to the world and you can hear all our voices in one vast cacophony sound wave. It puts you into awe.

I would speak to critics of people with different thought systems, who adhere to one religion above another. We cannot judge them whatever religion they have chosen. People cannot be lumped this way. Any organization is composed of individuals. Individuals move from one religion to another sometimes, but still all are searching for family. For Love. We are here to find out what Love is. May the powers that be grant us patience in our trek for it is a difficult trek.

To him, the guy on the Internet, the king of the shadow world perhaps, I could give a hint of who I am, but it would only be who I think I am and the barest hint. I would hint of my motives for approaching him, now knowing I could not speak of mystical journeys, for that was even taboo among the mystics. I would be wiser. At least I hope so. He did not approve of my thought system comprised of the belief, that I myself was Love. A Course In Miracles had taught me I was indeed just that, and anything else I could claim to be was merely like clothing. Clothing that would wear out in time, and then be thrown away as the threads unraveled.

I will not say much about ACIM, except it runs in my blood, even stronger than my DNA strands. If I had not read the book, if I had not absorbed it’s messages, if I had not ate and slept with it for a full year and more, I would not have had the courage or motivation to speak with a self proclaimed king, causing him to ask of me; “are you sure you want to do this?”

I would have only known the disparity between our social positions and been lacking courage, and lacking hope, and lacking knowledge I was Love. And so, as it turns out the very thing which he perceived stood in our way of relating, the very thought system he denounced had caused me to seek him out. All I’d been doing was extending myself. Putting out my hand in gesture, in greeting. I’m not sorry I did that and I’m glad he at the least responded with a warning. I can somehow turn that warning into a kind gesture of concern for my welfare. In truth, I was protected by Spirit.

And there is one other thing, not only would I not have encountered this most interesting character if I hadn’t read ACIM, I sincerely doubt I would be alive at all, for I was at the early stages of a life threatening illness when the book arrived along with a teacher who spoke with me from the other side, in gentle but firm countenance to continue my self study.

It was my thought system he demanded I relinquish in return for Love. Yet it was my thought system that told me I already had Love because I was Love. It was the utmost ironic situation.

I have survived Love, because I am Love. Go in peace for we tarry here only a little while and all that is confusing at the moment, shall be ever so clear in the days ahead.