Creative Commons- Loot du Jour

I’ve been writing about this word for weeks now, it seems, and in truth, when I saw it on the list this morning I almost groaned with weariness. What more could I possibly say?
That thought made me stop short. How can a person possibly get tired of being loved?! Of all the words in the lyrics of human language, this is perhaps the only word we need to be sung to us daily, over and over, reminding us with its refrain that this is who we are and who we are to Be – Loved.
It was then that I realized that I almost always take the word apart like this- Be Loved- making of it a verb that I must open to receive, making of it something less than the whole of its meaning, the way we always do when we separate something into its parts. To let myself Be Loved is to allow my individual flaws – perceived or real – be bathed in compassion and understanding. To let myself Be Loved is to allow the brokenness of my humanity to be beheld with tenderness. And it is true, that separated into its parts in this way, the words are worthy, valuable, necessary, and healing. But as are the myriad sundered wonders in our material world, so the word Beloved is much greater than the sum of its parts.
How intensely my response to the word is deepened, when leaving the word intact. Beloved, as noun, as in ‘the Beloved’, as in Who I am and who I am to Be? To open the door even a crack to that possibility, imagining myself as Beloved, is to catch a glimpse of myself as Sacred. Desired. Adored. Blessed. Honored. Needed. I want to close that door quickly, run from it, as if I have seen something I should not, as if I have peered into a chamber of intimacy to tender for my eyes, as if it is somehow irreverent for my eyes to have seen it. The glow of those golden robes seems too much for my eyes to bear.
But resisting the urge to flee, sitting for these few moments, at the threshold of that door, my eyes closed, feeling the warmth of that radiated glow, feels like an invitation to visit this chamber more often, to take off my shoes at that door, to close it softly behind me, to enter with naked humility, to risk saying yes.
To be the Beloved.
Receiving even the possibility of that restores to me Beauty, Dignity. Wonder. That’s how much bigger it is than ‘merely’ being loved. Even here on this threshold, hiding behind this closed door, my ear to the wood as when I wrap my arms around some noble ancient tree, the heat from within that sacred room penetrates my longing heart.
There is an Hasidic myth that speaks of the how at the beginning of time the primordial light poured itself into ten sacred vessels. Had they arrived intact, the world would have been perfect, but the vessels were too fragile to contain such light and they shattered, spilling the light and scattering sparks everywhere. Since that time, the work of humanity has been about finding those pieces, repairing the vessels, and restoring the world to what it was intended to be.
Perhaps I begin here then, by putting together this broken apart Word within me.
I am

1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. kidfriendlyyoga
    Mar 12, 2018 @ 09:10:59

    Awesome reflection!♥️



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