Always and Forever in Service of Love

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Dear friends,

Being Lovers is being concluded.

I am moving on with a new project. It’s a collaborative blog called AWAKENING WITH. In partnership with many beautiful, wise writers spanning our globe, we will be offering our unique wisdom about various awakening paths, such as Reiki, yoga, meditation, Tarot, Tantra, and more. It’s the next big step for me, for us, on this wonderful writing journey! I hope you’ll check us out.

And now…

Some parting words about Love…

♥♥♥

What is romantic love?

As you focus your attention on a single person in a moment of “romance,” and that person focuses their loving attention back upon you, then a feeling of bliss expands inside your heart. You feel, if only for a few moments, complete. You feel at home.

What is unconditional love?

Unconditional love is pure. It is free from expectations, judgments, co-depency, fears. It is a sense of unity that does not fade. It is living within the breath of eternal union. Body, mind, and spirit, forever yoked as One.

Unconditional love, which we could also call “ultimate love,” is the surrender of the scared self, and an awakening of the Sacred Self.

How do romantic love and unconditional love relate?

Romantic love, for many of us, is the mystical moment where we, for the first time, experience ourselves opening to something greater. Something amazing and indefinable. It is a moment where the seemingly solid form of “me” begins to dissolve.

Romantic love is an opening.

Romantic love is a moment where the previously-closed human vessel of the body can begin to receive and utilize the very frequency that originally made it.

Romantic love heals.

Romantic love, for many, is the beginning of the end of suffering.

When we choose to incarnate onto this planet, we choose to descend into these bodies and brains with a forgetfulness. We forget our true divine nature and walk around feeling we are less than that. We feel fear; we feel separate. Our hearts are closed, protected seeds. And…then…the warmth of the sun comes. Love comes. Our beloved comes.

And then we blossom.

What we call “romantic love” is actually, at its depths, a trigger for the spiritual awakening process.

And, yet, as beautiful as romantic love is, it is not the be-all-end-all of life. It is not the final goal or destination.

Romance is what humanity is transitioning out of.

Pure, awakened unconditional love is the future.

When we “fall in love” (initially in the romantic sense) and experience viewing ourselves through the eyes of the mirror of our Beloved, everything changes. Every part of our being shifts. What once was dark is now light; what once was tired now has energy. We cannot believe how wonderful we feel! We cannot believe how lucky we suddenly are!

Dear friends, at this time in my life, the beautiful miraculous spring of 2017, I can say that I understand these truths almost fully—but not quite. As a channeller of information, the information comes through me, healing me as it moves. I often teach what I have yet to fully and totally embody. This is the way of things.

Indeed, I still am working on integrating this information that I present to you now, which flows freely to me through the Universe during Reiki and meditation. I am fully aware that what I write to you now is truth…and…yet…sometimes I still sink into fear.

And even though, most of the time, I am fully grounded in the self-realized awareness of my eternal being-ness, I still, sometimes, desire another. I long for someone. Yes, that still arises sometimes.

I do not want to call what I feel for this person “romantic love,” for it is not that. No. I do not intend for it to be that. And…yet…so then…what to call it? If I have no intention of returning to co-dependency or clinging, if I have no desire to base my happiness on the form of another, then what to name it?

It is a paradox. I deeply love many Beings. And, yet, there is One in particular for whom my heart particularly sings. When we are together, it is as if every cell in my body dances to a new rhythm that I could only before imagine was possible. When he touches my knee, all the trees in the forests stop to listen. When his face appears in view, my bones tremble and ask for his blessing.

When I look at him, I see myself. I see my own triumphs, joys, projections, sorrows, stumbles, and hopes. I see myself, projected outside myself, in another form. It is quite a powerful show!

This has happened before—this kind of powerful, immersive, radical love, particularized in a single person—but, before, I was not quite so aware. Thus, much pain ensued, as we tried to cling to each other, not recognizing that we were already whole beings. We mistakenly sought completion in the other. We mistakenly gripped and held. We loved each other, but we hurt each other, and ourselves. We suffered.

Now is the time for something new. With this new friend. This new spiritual companion. This new energy.

I cannot call him “partner,” for it is much more grande yet much less localized than that. We have no label. We have no promises. We have no clinging, and any co-depency that rises up within me, I notice, and I breathe into it, thus dissolving it quickly. The old ways are dying.

The love that is there, this deep, profound, completely earth-shattering love, whom I direct sometimes in a particular direction, at a particular gorgeous form, is also the same love I have for every tree, every rock. It is one love.

I dance my dance most days alone, without his voice, and I am okay. In fact, I am more than okay! I am the creator of the Universe and the creation within the Universe. I am both, functioning in a perfect dance of will and form. I am in love with myself.

Now is the time I attain to the next level. This spiral brings me up.

Romance is what humanity is transitioning out of.

Pure, awakened unconditional love is the future.

I represent the future. I am a wayshower. This is my task in this lifetime. I signed up for it. He did, too. We have the same mission.

I am so grateful to know him.

…and what I feel now of Love is deeper than any song, wider than any river. I am the Pure Presence that emanates from all things, and through my light, I heal myself and all beings. I have taken the Bodhisatva vow in my heart. Not in front of a religious community, but in the quiet echoes of my own morning. I have chosen. I have dedicated my entire life to the Way of awakening.

It is what I have always wanted.

Looking back, I can see this future in my childhood’s eyes. I can see how it has always been this way. How this Path has been prepared for me.

Each day I rise, and I surrender. Some days are easier than others. And there is still ego in me, still the illusion of separateness that still strives to exist. It will be dissolved at some point. No timelines can predict exactly when, but I do feel it will be within this lifetime.

Friends, thank you for following this blog. I hope you have felt loved through it.

Go forth, and love—as deeply and intensely as you can!!

Go forth and breathe, allowing the love to flow back to you, completing the circle.

Always and Forever in Service of Love,

Anya Light

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♥ Enjoy more heart-openings at www.AnyaLight.com or Anya’s book Opening Love. ♥ Namaste!

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Love at First Sight*

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“There will always be words,”
said the little girl to the little boy.
“So…let’s write them!”

The little boy looked at her.
His face was the color of the sun,
and his eyes knew more
than his height would allow.

The little boy looked at her.
“Will you, too, share the moon?” he asked,
blinking. His fingers, shaking.

 

Together, they fell into a rapture.
Together they fell.
They remembered in an instant,      beyond
what their childhood brains could know…

They remembered the swamps, the forests,
the many many islands,
and all the deserts and the hells.
But most of all:
They remembered
every key
that could, or could not, be unlocked.
They remembered it all.

They kissed.
They kissed.

Their mouths fit!

And they called sweetly to the moon, then,
their voices in unison:
“Please, gentle mother,
please be our guide.”

 

And so she did.
(How could she not?) It was love, love at first sight.
It was the thing they’d read about, later,
as adults. It was the thing they’d always know.
The lightning and the jolt. The grasses and the green.
The day, and how it always begun.

They fell,
together:
and it was the moment when all the ends worked out.
When the woman in the well began to swim,
and the man in the high priestly collar
began to bend.

It was that moment.
That moment
Of seed,
That moment of miracle:

That moment

When the planting
Could truly begin.

 

 

*Dedicated to B, and all our many past and future lives together. 

 


 

If you enjoyed this poem, you might also enjoy Anya’s book, Opening Love.
Or, for a closer encounter, contact Anya today to schedule a spiritual guidance or relationship coaching session via phone or Skype.

That One Beautiful Year

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Young couple holding hands with sun-flare.

There were many miles between us. Oceans. Birds. I met you, and fell in love in an instant. There was nothing else—just your eyes.

And then we parted. A few hours later, we parted. I had to catch a train.

It felt like a trauma.

For a year, there were emails, letters, phone calls, Skype. For a year, there were visits. Plane tickets, savings accounts happily and ecstatically drained. There were moments that cannot be recalled because they will never need recalling—they will forever be at the very center of every waking moment from now on. They are me.

You are me.

For that year, that one beautiful year, I began a habit of singing to you. When I crossed green forests alone or sank deep into a glorious bath, I sang to you. My voice rang out, cancelling in an instant the seeming realness of so many miles. My voice rang out, clear and unburdened by the day. I made up beautiful songs. I never knew I could sing. I even joined a choir.

I learned the meaning of the word “yearn.” I discovered all amounts and measures of pain. Sometimes, before visits, I would say things like: “only a few more weeks, Beloved.” I would cry, oh how I would cry! Bittersweet tears of longing. Bittersweet tears of joy and ecstasy.

And then, one day, something inside me awoke. It was my heart—my own beating heart! And I realized I’d been singing to it this whole time.

This whole time…singing to my own heart. Coaxing it out of hiding.

My love, my dear love without end, through that year, through our love, I found my way.

Thank you.

Thank you.

 


If you like this blog, you might also like Anya’s book, Opening Love. Or, for a more intimate encounter, please contact Anya today to schedule your intuitive guidance or relationship coaching session.

As if it were New

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I came into this body to love you.

…Do you remember?

The mirror was blank,

so we could not see our face.

We did not like this.

Our fingers: they were of air,

so we could not touch.

We did not like this.

And so,

Gradually

Gradually

The perfect incantation

came; the perfect song.

It was a way forward for us,    into limb

and bone.

We began by singing it together—

and then, by the end, you were the one singing,

and I was humming along.

We came into these bodies. Separate countries.

We came into these lives.

We thought it would be sweet,

So sweet, to meet:

To say Hello, again,

As if it were new.


Like this post? Try Opening Love, a guidebook through the challenges and ecstasies of intentional and polyamorous relationships.

Diamonds on the Wall

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I met you in Puerto Rico

I met you in England

I met you in Hong Kong

Madagascar
Lemuria              Mars

everywhere

 

When I was a child, you kept watch
in my blue bedroom:
always a few feet off the floor—
always a few feet (somehow) above
mother’s screams,

and the posters

that would take themselves         down off the walls.

You protected me.

 

Lovely my love is our love
when we met
in the quiet,
when we met in the Zendo,
when we met in the street,     when I was with the priest.

And it is true
I have always loved you…go on meeting you…
way before
the terrible pop songs…
and
eons after
the ruffled,       pompous waltzes…

They never did teach me how to love you

and yet I’ve managed to

and yet I’ve managed to

 

But now
it is eternity…here…where we are,
and we dance in the garden of all seed:

the place outside of time
the place outside of chance
the place we continue meeting:     you

and me.

The place with diamonds on the wall


 


 

Follow more from Anya at AnyaLight.com, and her book Opening Love.

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A Love Story We Are Writing

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We are writing quite the love story, aren’t we?

It begins in England; it begins in the moors…lands of Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights: lands of smoke and hay. It’s a land we’ve been to, millions of times, millions of dreams, other lifetimes and knowings.

I am here to teach; you are here to live. We meet. It’s a city called Hebden Bridge, known as “the San Francisco of England.” Lesbians everywhere, holding hands. Old, wide, young, thin.

Hebden Bridge: where, on afternoons, soap bubbles blow from that charming soap shop: they say it’s their gift to the city; they say it’s for free. And, every spring, hundreds of plastic ducks on the river…crowds gather to watch the race and rejoice: ice cream, picnics, children, blue skies. This is Hebden Bridge. A place I’m not sure exists.

We are writing quite the love story.

In the beginning is you seated: dark sweater and a scarf you wear. A quiet meditation hall. I don’t know this bowing ritual yet, and so I find my eyes drawn to you, to your beautiful body, as you make the movements. I dip my head reverently to the wooden floor, which represents the Earth; I dip my head and rise my palms for Buddha. (Not in worship but in Yes. A state of connection and calm joy.)

There is no difference between who is bowing and who else. I have Buddha nature, so I bow. You have Buddha nature, so you bow. We bow to All. I keep looking at you. You are always two seconds ahead, to my right. I keep looking at you.

The story begins with your eyes and my heart. With hello, as you try, unsuccessfully, to dodge me. You’ve seen me with the priest…but you don’t yet know I am not his—not anybody’s.

Our story begins with a headache. My headache. I cannot yet face them, the rooms of expectant people. I am tired of eyes looking at me, tired of talking, tired of explaining what seems so obvious. It’s almost time for my book reading, and I’m dreading it.

Just ten minutes in the Zendo, I tell myself. Just ten minutes of meditation: that’s all I need, and then I’ll be better. So, I rise from the bed, shuffle downstairs, and push open the old wooden door.

It is you! You are there! You are already seated, on the old wooden floor. My heart is made of firecrackers. My heart is made of chocolate. In total surprise, I say: You!? We then smile two smiles that seem to join oceans.

We agree to sit together. At the end, you ring the bell, like you always do. You are the keeper of the bell; you are the bell that awakens us. I don’t remember what we talk about then, after we sit, but it’s something that flows. Some minutes pass, and suddenly we remember clocks: they exist. We say we are both reluctant to join them, but we do.

And then the story, well, it really begins with my card, given to you… And then your question: Want to take a walk? …And then, a few streets later, my question: May I kiss you? Your mouth is dry and you laughingly complain. We look around. There’s so much, and suddenly. The moon is big and the river is near. It is the end of summer. I don’t live here, and you do, so you show the way. We walk. I can’t remember if we hold hands at this point. I know that when we get to the bridge, we do. I remember resting my head in your lap. Your hands upon my head, so gently. I tell you I’m a healer. I tell you everything. No secrets, already. We talk of magic. And, after awhile, we walk a bit more, back toward the house. After awhile, you say something—and I fall to the pavement…because what you’ve said collapses time: because my legs, apparently, need time to function. I fall to the ground with ecstasy and with total love.

Back at the house, later, you kneel to write your number on a scrap of paper. While writing, you look up at me. I’m in the chair, so close, legs crossed. You shake your head, disbelievingly, and like a giddy child you say: I don’t know you, but I love you.

We are writing quite a love story, my love. It includes more things. The letters, the emails. The six-hour calls. The orgasms and dances across space and all that seems real. You and I in the forest, that afternoon. Those precious minutes. Back; forth. The label “partner”; the label “friend”; and how all that, eventually, not mattering. The now. The precious now. How your laugh surprises me still; how I’ve heard it all before. Some past life.

How crickets can signal not the end but the beginning of a summer.

How the bird who sings…

is singing for itself. For the song.

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Many thanks to Julie Rose Clark, for the sharing of her beautiful painting featured above. Julie is an artist living in Hebden Bridge (West Yorkshire, England). Commissions taken. Learn more at: www.julieroseclark.co.uk


Like what you just read? You might also like Opening Love, a compassionate guidebook through the challenges and ecstasies of intentional relationships.

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