Helga Weber

We cannot give what we do not have.

To give love (and receive it too, kids!) we’ve got to live love. It’s got to come from who we are and the way we be with ourselves; from the inside out. There’s good news and bad news here.

It’s true that our essence is love—that’s the good news. So all we have to do is strip down till we can bask in the love we essentially are, giving fear and the rest up to God. That’s the bad news.

Because, as you must know, it ain’t so easy to “let the rest go.”

Let me get real and personal. I want to acknowledge here and now that I still sometimes treat myself like dog do. And if I am to be the source of the love and light that I dearly want to be in this dark, fearful world of ours, I’ve got to strip down further and clean up my act.

I’ve got to keep this love and light that I am (and you are, too) alive and kicking in me, any which way I can. But how do I keep love alive? How does anyone?

We keep love alive by learning to stay so present with ourselves and the sensations in our bodies so that we know when we’re veering off course and can choose to make a correction.

We all know when things feel right and when they don’t. And oh-so-fortunately, our body doesn’t lie. Unlike our speciously conditioned mind, humble body doesn’t know how to tell us much of anything but the truth. If only we’d care to listen.

Far too often though, we override our healthy body-based instincts in the interest of matters other than taking sweet care of ourselves.

We ignore the promptings of our hearts and guts in favor of the dictates of our ego-minds. And that, dear readers, is being plain mean to ourselves!

For me, time has been of the essence lately—my particular ax to grind. I’ve had an underlying, at times overriding sense there isn’t nearly enough of it; the hourglass is running out fast and, if I don’t hurry up, I won’t get whatever it is I think I have to do done in time. I am not alone.

The “fear of time and the fear of death” is what the ancient Guru Gita yoga scripture calls this enduring bugaboo. But whatever we call it, it ends up pushing against my best impulses and finds me hurrying up to do ego-mind’s bidding—my true feelings and love of self be damned.

I don’t always operate like that, thank God. I am often kind to myself, taking time to breathe and feel and turn my attention from the monkey mind to that loving heart and honest gut of mine. I am much better at remembering than I used to be. But habits die hard and monkeys hate to let go.

Today is a great example of forgetting myself while a false sense of urgency prevails. It’s one of the most glorious days of the year, and instead of sitting out in our beautiful garden, where I dearly want to be—and from my sore, weary body’s perspective, maybe I need to be—I am forcing myself to sit inside and write. (No wonder it’s taking forever…)

I don’t have to do that to myself, especially since I alone decide when to post blog entries. No deadlines involved. But having lost my way in the scramble to get ready for a major trip, I’ve convinced myself I have so much to do that I can’t afford the luxury of not doing this now.

There is nothing wrong with blog writing on a beautiful day. Putting words to page is a large part of what I, a self-described scribe, am here to do.

The problem lies in how I do what I’m doing; whether with self-love and respect, or with the whip of ego-mind at the helm.

Am I writing now because I’m really moved to? Or am I writing because I’ve set a false deadline for myself in order to garner approval—either from others or from my own ego? (I think we know the answer to that one.)

Still, let’s hope that somehow, through a crack in today’s rushed girl, suck-it-up armor, a little light has made it through and onto the page. I count on you to let me know about that and, if need be, set me straight. I—and our other readers—treasure your comments, so please don’t be shy.

Addendum:

Okay, I’ve already been set straight. Before sending this off to be posted, I asked my Norwegian architect-cum-English editor husband to take his usual look-see. He had this to say: “Your post shouldn’t end with you hoping light has made it through and onto the page. Light always makes it through in your writing.”

Which made me (heart, ego, et al.) very happy.

“That’s not the point,” he went on. “The only thing that matters—according to you, yourself, right here in this post—is whether you were honoring your own light in the process. And you weren’t!”

Right you are honey. Thanks for helping me see that, as a result of rushing and pushing, I’d managed to miss my own point. It’s true I want what I write to be full of light and, so, a light source to everyone else. But I want me to be full of light too. I really do. Happily, remembering to honor my light first is the best and maybe the only way to ensure that my words for you shine.

 

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Assistant Ed: Ben Neal/Ed: Bryonie Wise