Love Is A Practice

Love is a practice

Love is a skill

Immature love asks the question who will love me? 💁🏼‍♂️
Mature love responds to life’s mysterious longings with a saturation of intent, piercing through wayward wastelands of beggars and borrowers with a potency of presence💦
Immature love is ambivalent.  Always waiting, always wanting. 
Always asking for permission 
In all ways hesitating. 
Always dreaming of a someday that will never come.

Mature love is robust.  It is built of its own devices.  It squashes out doubt by occupying, and surrounding, every insecurity, every grievance, every misgiving, with certitude.

Mature love doesn’t confuse the chemical cocktail of infatuation with the practical magic of dosing the citizens of the earth with the ecstatic pleasure of one’s regal magnificence. 🦁
It stands strong and tall, connected to a virtuous circuit of generative wealth beyond measure.  It is devoted to the transmission of radiance because it is an engine of one primary purpose😍
Immature love is hopelessly romantic, hooked up to media driven mythology and masochistic ideologies, endlessly expectant, driven by an insatiable desire to fill the empty abyss of self loathing😓
Immature love clings and claws.
It manipulates and masquerades as a ploy to distract itself from its own suffering.  It is caught in a self-perpetuating loop, a fatalistic response of being a victim to the over riding power of circumstance😩
Mature love seeks to give what is needed. Sending out sonar frequencies to detect that which has been neglected and overflows with a limitless and sometimes ludicrously obsessive impulse, to be a force of massive generosity.

Mature love is not giving to get, it is giving to live.  For it knows that the tap only flows when the faucet is open.  That the well is only as deep as the strength of the container.  And the chambers of the heart are only as strong as the minerals from which they are forged.

Mature love is holy. It is the ground.  It is ether.  It is everything in between.  It is the places where our attention once missed itself.  It is full of itself, in a way that fills others up.

Mature love blossoms from the nectar of wholeness.  It is a divine bloom within the heart of all things.  It knows no end and is born from the beginning of all beginnings.

Love is a practice

Love is a skill.
To love is an art 💛🔑👑

#awake #spiritualwarrior #youcandoit

Soma Miller