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| What is Love? How do you know if love is real? Fear of Love. |
| Simply Stunning! A beautiful and profound experience 3 guided meditations on one CD. Access higher wisdom, intuition and insights. Change habits, release fears and activate healing energies. Buy Now Full description. Read what others say |
You sit and hold my gaze; looking into me rather than at me. You speak quietly,
deliberately choosing words which keep you safe and free of obligation or
misunderstanding. You use words other than the one you really want to express.
The true meaning hides behind those eyes and in the tone of your voice – it is a
different interpretation. You are not saying what you are saying and you leave me
with no doubt that this is not to be challenged or even questioned.
I feel you move towards me. Are you reaching out or pulling me forward? I do
not know; as I sense this but I do not see it – you did not move.
I am hearing your words and understanding what you think I should receive. I
respond in the way that addresses your issues; reassuring you without defining
what I am really hearing. Yes, there is an elephant sitting on the table but we all
pretend not to notice.
I am looking at a photograph of myself on the back wall of your heart. I wander
through the secret room in your mind; where you have long and honest
conversations with me. Not like now, when everything is guarded and
monitored. No, in your secret room which you think is yours alone - I do come.
In the still of night you summon me there and you speak with naked thoughts.
Your voice is hypnotic and my mind is wandering. I am circling above you and
looking down into a labyrinth. You are a child hiding in the center. You are
calling me and laughing that I will never find you. From above I know you are
not laughing and this is not a childish game that you play. I see you crouched and
afraid and begging me to reach you. You are alone and lost there - but calling it
safe. Do the walls keep your fears out or do they simply imprison you? I run
through dead end corridors frantically calling to you. I am afraid and panicked
and scratch myself through hedges trying to shortcut the confusion. I hear you
laugh – I sense you cry.
I have entered the labyrinth a hundred times but I have never managed to find
you. I am left devastated and you are disappointed. You tell yourself if I really
cared I would not give up. I wonder why you won’t just walk out or meet me
half way.
It’s the daemons you say. Did you say that or did I just know that? The daemons
within the child are still trapped within the man. Like footsteps outside the
bedroom door as you hold yourself in a foetal position and pray that the door is
locked. If the past should revisit, will it bring with it all of its carnage and
destitution? Well that’s a little strong perhaps, but that’s how you really
remember it; the isolation, betrayals and abandonment. What is this I ask and you
reply, ‘This is Love’.
And yes, I long for love. To feel it, give and receive it – to trust in it. It is an
endless and relentless hunger; a quiet demand and a delirious obsession. I have
been seduced by its magic and been thrilled by its promise. I have been touched
and nurtured and cradled like a baby. I have danced with a translucent body and
sung songs without words. I have been illuminated and energized. I even
thought I saw the face of God once or twice.
They say that love is not for the feint-hearted. What an understatement. I have
crawled on my knees and been kicked like a dog. I have had my heart chewed
out and spat away. I have been diminished by loves humiliation and fickle games.
Abandoned - like ash inside skin and silently screaming. I have been left impotent
and castrated in more ways than one.
Don’t say the word, I won’t respond. It’s a taboo subject; I won’t be seduced
by your interpretation or promises. Let’s talk about sex and how your body can
thrill me. I will speak of friendship, affection and caring. I’ll play mental
mathematics with you; pragmatic, cynical or ponderous. Hypothetically, we
might talk about ‘The Others’.
I watch as you fall backwards and then down deep into yourself. You ask your
heart to explain itself. The emotional aspects of love are a kaleidoscope, smoke
and mirrors, ocean waves and fragments of glass; unpredictable, indefinable and
ever changing. There is nothing solid here and nothing sustainable or of any real
substance.
The mind unpacks boxes with labels and history reveals itself. Love is a prison
and a man is held in bondage. A woman’s agenda is always about control and
possession. Love is a weapon no less than a sword. Don’t tear out my
vulnerabilities just to blackmail me later with what you thought I promised.
Protector, provider and puppet are only your projections. I am afraid that you
will own me as much as I am afraid that you will reject me.
No, love can not be measured by emotion or intellect; of this I am sure. Let’s
talk of sex and lust. I understand my hunger and predict my satisfaction. There
is a banquet on offer and with some careful consideration and appropriate
manners I can take my fill and then take my leave. Call me greedy or send me the
bill but it’s an honest transaction at least. A man must do what a man must do
and you may well afford me a little flexibility or discretion. If I pleasure you and
thrill you then surely you can call it love, but not hold me to any debit. Let me
remind you once again, “I did not say I loved you”.
If it isn’t named then it isn’t claimed!
We have witnessed fields of broken dreams and you wondered aloud if love
could last forever. Is there really a special ‘One’ for all of us? Are you testing me
with casual and cryptic clues? Am I on trial before your trust? Don’t speak to
me of things long past. I too have traveled your roads, but all roads led to here.
Don’t make me be your whipping boy for the sins of all the others.
Do I need to die before you concede that I was the one?
I am certain of this: I have seen it written across the sky. This is the real deal –
the day that destiny came to now.
Will we accept it? Can we step up and into it? I watch your face and your
hesitation; I hear you think to yourself, I do love you. It’s foreign and
uncomfortable. You say it again and listen; uncomfortable and threatening. You
feel the fear come to surface and swallow it down again. I love you – you
regurgitate. The daemons rise but you command them back; they cower in the
corner. Do I love you? I want to love you, can I love you – do you love me?
But, what about..? Can you promise me..? What if..?
You slump in your chair and draw a breath as you search for your words. Your
eyes penetrate me and your words bounce around the room before I am able to
grasp them. “What is your definition of love? If we take away our history,
eliminate the intellectual, emotional and sexual – then tell me what, ‘I love you,’
really means?”
If I am not my body, have no thought or emotion, do I even exist? Yes, I am
sure I do. If I exist, do I still feel love and am I capable of giving or receiving
love? I sense my answer from knowing this more than any truth I have ever
known, “Love is who and what I am”.
Then how can you say you love me?
In this pure and uncontaminated state, I stand before you, more naked than air.
Perhaps for the very first time you will see me as I see you:
You are my reflection.
Copyright Sonya Green 2006
Your comments and suggestions are welcome
deliberately choosing words which keep you safe and free of obligation or
misunderstanding. You use words other than the one you really want to express.
The true meaning hides behind those eyes and in the tone of your voice – it is a
different interpretation. You are not saying what you are saying and you leave me
with no doubt that this is not to be challenged or even questioned.
I feel you move towards me. Are you reaching out or pulling me forward? I do
not know; as I sense this but I do not see it – you did not move.
I am hearing your words and understanding what you think I should receive. I
respond in the way that addresses your issues; reassuring you without defining
what I am really hearing. Yes, there is an elephant sitting on the table but we all
pretend not to notice.
I am looking at a photograph of myself on the back wall of your heart. I wander
through the secret room in your mind; where you have long and honest
conversations with me. Not like now, when everything is guarded and
monitored. No, in your secret room which you think is yours alone - I do come.
In the still of night you summon me there and you speak with naked thoughts.
Your voice is hypnotic and my mind is wandering. I am circling above you and
looking down into a labyrinth. You are a child hiding in the center. You are
calling me and laughing that I will never find you. From above I know you are
not laughing and this is not a childish game that you play. I see you crouched and
afraid and begging me to reach you. You are alone and lost there - but calling it
safe. Do the walls keep your fears out or do they simply imprison you? I run
through dead end corridors frantically calling to you. I am afraid and panicked
and scratch myself through hedges trying to shortcut the confusion. I hear you
laugh – I sense you cry.
I have entered the labyrinth a hundred times but I have never managed to find
you. I am left devastated and you are disappointed. You tell yourself if I really
cared I would not give up. I wonder why you won’t just walk out or meet me
half way.
It’s the daemons you say. Did you say that or did I just know that? The daemons
within the child are still trapped within the man. Like footsteps outside the
bedroom door as you hold yourself in a foetal position and pray that the door is
locked. If the past should revisit, will it bring with it all of its carnage and
destitution? Well that’s a little strong perhaps, but that’s how you really
remember it; the isolation, betrayals and abandonment. What is this I ask and you
reply, ‘This is Love’.
And yes, I long for love. To feel it, give and receive it – to trust in it. It is an
endless and relentless hunger; a quiet demand and a delirious obsession. I have
been seduced by its magic and been thrilled by its promise. I have been touched
and nurtured and cradled like a baby. I have danced with a translucent body and
sung songs without words. I have been illuminated and energized. I even
thought I saw the face of God once or twice.
They say that love is not for the feint-hearted. What an understatement. I have
crawled on my knees and been kicked like a dog. I have had my heart chewed
out and spat away. I have been diminished by loves humiliation and fickle games.
Abandoned - like ash inside skin and silently screaming. I have been left impotent
and castrated in more ways than one.
Don’t say the word, I won’t respond. It’s a taboo subject; I won’t be seduced
by your interpretation or promises. Let’s talk about sex and how your body can
thrill me. I will speak of friendship, affection and caring. I’ll play mental
mathematics with you; pragmatic, cynical or ponderous. Hypothetically, we
might talk about ‘The Others’.
I watch as you fall backwards and then down deep into yourself. You ask your
heart to explain itself. The emotional aspects of love are a kaleidoscope, smoke
and mirrors, ocean waves and fragments of glass; unpredictable, indefinable and
ever changing. There is nothing solid here and nothing sustainable or of any real
substance.
The mind unpacks boxes with labels and history reveals itself. Love is a prison
and a man is held in bondage. A woman’s agenda is always about control and
possession. Love is a weapon no less than a sword. Don’t tear out my
vulnerabilities just to blackmail me later with what you thought I promised.
Protector, provider and puppet are only your projections. I am afraid that you
will own me as much as I am afraid that you will reject me.
No, love can not be measured by emotion or intellect; of this I am sure. Let’s
talk of sex and lust. I understand my hunger and predict my satisfaction. There
is a banquet on offer and with some careful consideration and appropriate
manners I can take my fill and then take my leave. Call me greedy or send me the
bill but it’s an honest transaction at least. A man must do what a man must do
and you may well afford me a little flexibility or discretion. If I pleasure you and
thrill you then surely you can call it love, but not hold me to any debit. Let me
remind you once again, “I did not say I loved you”.
If it isn’t named then it isn’t claimed!
We have witnessed fields of broken dreams and you wondered aloud if love
could last forever. Is there really a special ‘One’ for all of us? Are you testing me
with casual and cryptic clues? Am I on trial before your trust? Don’t speak to
me of things long past. I too have traveled your roads, but all roads led to here.
Don’t make me be your whipping boy for the sins of all the others.
Do I need to die before you concede that I was the one?
I am certain of this: I have seen it written across the sky. This is the real deal –
the day that destiny came to now.
Will we accept it? Can we step up and into it? I watch your face and your
hesitation; I hear you think to yourself, I do love you. It’s foreign and
uncomfortable. You say it again and listen; uncomfortable and threatening. You
feel the fear come to surface and swallow it down again. I love you – you
regurgitate. The daemons rise but you command them back; they cower in the
corner. Do I love you? I want to love you, can I love you – do you love me?
But, what about..? Can you promise me..? What if..?
You slump in your chair and draw a breath as you search for your words. Your
eyes penetrate me and your words bounce around the room before I am able to
grasp them. “What is your definition of love? If we take away our history,
eliminate the intellectual, emotional and sexual – then tell me what, ‘I love you,’
really means?”
If I am not my body, have no thought or emotion, do I even exist? Yes, I am
sure I do. If I exist, do I still feel love and am I capable of giving or receiving
love? I sense my answer from knowing this more than any truth I have ever
known, “Love is who and what I am”.
Then how can you say you love me?
In this pure and uncontaminated state, I stand before you, more naked than air.
Perhaps for the very first time you will see me as I see you:
You are my reflection.
Copyright Sonya Green 2006
Your comments and suggestions are welcome
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| Articles by Sonya Green are now available in paperback. Click the book cover to find out more. Paypal secure payment. Also available as an ebook - instant download only $8 This article not included |
| If you feel this website has inspired you or resonated with you or if you found yourself thinking about someone who would benefit from visiting these pages - Trust Your Intuition and send them the link. If you would like to copy an article to your site or blog, you are welcome to do so, but must note copyright Sonya Green and refer to www.reinventingmyself.com If you would like to support this site you might consider emailing in suggestions, a small donation, purchasing a product or visiting the links to our sponsors. |
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