Switch On, Opt In, Love Out

by Nicole Daedone  Jan 2, 2016
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Love Out is simple. And pretty darned self evident. You just...love out. You don’t ask yourself if you should, if this person is worthy, or if you will get hurt at some later undetermined point in time. You don't examine the complexities of trust and keep a tally of past infractions. You don't keep checking your account to insure that this commodity isn’t running scarce. Nope. You just. Love. Out.

When you are in the most tormented pain, when you feel unseen, unmet, unheard, and when you have been diminished into invisibility, you know how to re-inflate? You love out.

When your body is curled inward like a hand that has become a claw to protect the heart; when all of you has turned inward as if reaching back for some love that was never there; when you are being pulled back, pulled down, away from this life, back into some imagined safety, turn it around. Love Out.

When sickness rages within, begging you to protect it by keeping it safe from the sunlight of the spirit, by withdrawing into that cave of self, the one that lies to you in your own voice and tells you that you deserve to withdraw, that you need it for “self” care, that refuses to admit that the self goes far beyond this body and that the core of all sickness rests in the illusion that the self is limited to what lies behind a boundary of flesh: Love Out.

When you call it something noble - you know, spiritual or lofty - and that you need to get in touch with God or That Voice (as if God weren't the bus driver or the bank teller, as if That Voice weren’t encoded in the way the woman at the next table is nodding her head, drawing her suitors attention out, or in the dog perpetually and unashamedly glancing up at the owner to insure course direction): Love Out.

And when you get confused and start to exalt pews and cushions and mountaintops as containers of a silence that drips in its concentration of love, forgetting to listen right here in the chaos of the marketplace, right into the band of it that connects the sounds, the emptiness that connects the space. When you get intoxicated by a beauty that can pull you out of the profane, where reality is happening, where your heart is being requested: Love Out.

When you walk into the room Turn on the lights, Choose to be here, with life on life’s terms And let this life that is love run through you like the electrical wires that buzz with electricity that draw the birds to rest from their flight.

In other words, Switch on, Opt in, Love out.

(Photo Credit: Sylvie Fleury)