by Guthema Roba
Pure Space
As I was washing dishes one morning, my daughter came over and said,
“Daddy, what is love?” I was surprised and deeply touched by her question
and did not know what to say exactly. If a four-year-old asks you the
meaning of love, what would be your answer? I know children are closer
to love
than adults and they know it more deeply and directly than adults do
even though they
don’t not have the name for it. So I said to her:—
Love is when you share your books and toys with your friends. Love is when
you see an insect on the floor and take it out without hurting it.
That afternoon another answer came like this:—
Love
is recognizing a pure space
within us
into which
we dissolve
completely.
* * *
Please Come Home
Home
Is not a construction site.
It is not a geography.
It is not a four-letter word.
It is not a word at all.
It is not a concept.
Home
Is where you can sit alone without fear
Because your sense of insecurity
and incompleteness does not hold true anymore.
Home
Is where you allow yourself
to be who you are.
Where you’re whole,
Where you’re all, where you embrace
All things and all beings, where nothing is separate from anything,
Where the sheep and the shepherd are one,
Where the garden and the gardener are one,
Where the sky and skylark are one,
Where everything is vibrant and alive. Moving
into each other constantly.
Home is a field of great oneness
Where there are no stories,
no past, no future.
Please step inside.
Please come home.
* * *
All Is Divine
Everything is sacred.
All is divine—
Even the areas inside us
That are deeply conditioned
Have once known light
As themselves.
* * *
Beauty of the Beloved
This morning
I looked in the mirror
Just for a brief second
And was utterly shocked,
Shocked to my root
By the beauty of the
Beloved.
* * *
The Most Sincere Service
The most sincere service
You can ever give yourself
Is to leave the one whose presence
Does not melt you;
The one who makes you feel
Unworthy and incomplete
So that you can experience love directly
as it pours from the sky of your chest.
* * *