Love Lessons Part 2

I have been trying to decide how to share some of this stuff. I have decided for part 2 to post some [edited] entries from my journal: 

"What did Sarah teach me about Love at White Tantric Yoga? Well it was very experiential, but she taught me to feel, and to be a witness. Looking at Tess next to me, struggling to do the 62 minute meditation, watching the pain in her eyes. Feeling it and knowing that I can't take it on. I mustn't struggle because she is. Love is not that. Love lifts.

The examples of real Love are those memories that exist as images, as Joan Didion explains them, "with a shimmer around the edges, about to disintegrate." These are the images I don't always understand but which won't go away. The image of my uncle, crying into his mustache, giving by dying mother his most loved possession, a ripped up jean jacket, to show his devotion to her. The image of my new born child's fuzzy elfin ears. A rusty hammer on my grandfather's workroom bench, sawdust all around.

I feel cheated that I didn't learn about Love right from the beginning. I had pain and love co-mingled. Until God wiped the slate clean. But nothing is lost. The slate is still there, and the slate was meant to write on. And about writing... it is somehow tied in with Love.

If the Word was with God and God is Love, then technically the Word and Love are inseparable. What does this mean for me? It think it means I must always write if I want to dwell in Love. Just like I must meditate every day if I want to dwell in Love. The Word and words are my everything.

In some languages, Poet and Prophet mean the same thing. Last year God told me that I was a poet even before I came here. That this is a high calling.

At the time of these Love lessons I was also teaching a writing class that incorporated shamanic imagery journeys to help the students with their creativity and other things that come up for them when digging deep. It was awesome, and I would sometimes take the journeys myself. Here is an account of one of my journeys that I wrote down around the same time of the last entry.

"A woman who looked like Galadriel was my guide....We swam to the bottom of the Lake and then broke the frozen bottom and swam deeper to a cave and opened a door. She said if you want to do the best writing, you have to go deeper. She pulled out a box of rubies from the cave. Said they needed to be brought into the light. I only wanted to bring one or two, thinking I would leave the others there safe. She said I needed to take them all. They will replenish themselves if I take them all. 

Swimming, we pushed it to the surface. We bobbed up and took it to shore. Then Sarah came with some others and they all started admiring and then wearing the gems. Then we all lay down in the sun to dry and the jewels just sparkled on us.

Then C.S. Lewis showed up and some others. They said the key to the best writing is opening up to Love. People who know how to love--that high vibration comes through their writing, even when they are writing about low-vibrating things. Like C.S. Lewis wrote about Hell (The Great Divorce) and about devils (The Screwtape Letters) but they are such high vibrating books. Then all the people who were there touched my heart and gave me their love. I asked if they would come when called as creative inner guides and they all said yes. 

I feel like I have just been handed my life."