Have you ever noticed that much of our life seems to be spent reaching toward the next moment in a misplaced attempt to escape or appease a persistent feeling of longing?
Instead of sitting tight with the longing itself, we look for an explanation. "I'm not satisfied in this relationship." "I need to find my life's purpose". "Do I even have a purpose?" "Maybe if I can just clean up the shit pile from my childhood or get my ass back in therapy." "If I had more money I'd feel safe." "If I was truly loved I'd know contentment." "If I were enlightened all of this aching and suffering would be replaced with the 'peace that passeth understanding'."
Longing scares the holy shit out of us. We run like hell away from NOW. Where are we going? Toward the next promised something, in hope of release? News flash...it's another NOW. It's just longing in a new dress.
Even once we get that promised relationship, or new house, or bigger pay check or mind blowing spiritual experience, we inevitably come face to face with the evanescent quality of life. Everything is fleeting. The NOW is constantly changing form.
We could pause here. It's where we are anyway and there's no actual way of escaping. (God knows we've tried) But we don't. We blame the relationship, the bills, the job, ourselves or our fleeting taste of enlightenment and seek again.
Our seeking is our suffering. Our resistance takes a thousand forms... thinking, worrying, controlling, planning, jaw grinding, contracting, self helping, do-gooding, psycho-babbling... It all amounts to the same thing. Resistance in disguise.
So let's try something different.
Stop. Here. Now. Make an about face. Greet the longing with open arms. Scary shit I know but we're braver then we think. There's really no escape. We are right here any way. Right now.
This longing is asking only one thing of you.
To be met.
Here nothing is denied.
So meet it.
This is where all your spiritual practice is pointing.
Longing unmasked is love.
And love has taken a thousand disguises and a thousand more, all of them, no matter the appearance, are loves' invitation to love.
In that passionate embrace even the God's shudder in ecstasy.