Life is too vast to be contained by anything except a heart steeped in love.
— Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee
As so often, this is a very beautiful pointer.
How is it to relate to what’s here when it’s seen as something other than love? Something outside of what I am? Something other than awakeness? Something other than the capacity for all of this – the noticing, the love, the appearance of being other than love, the awakeness taking these forms?
What images and thoughts says this is other than love? What do I find when I take a closer look at these?
When what’s here is not recognized for what it is, there is discomfort. There is a belief that what’s here is not love and outside of what I am. There is a sense of separation. Life appears too vast for me. Life (sometimes) appears too much.
When it’s noticed as what it is, and it is invited to find for itself what it is, it’s revealed as and met by love.