And she began,
"I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own,
And I know that the Spirit of God is the brother of my own,
And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and
the women my sisters..."
She looked at him, his eyes dewy, hugging himself, as if he were being filled to bursting. He was too different to be accepted by anyone but another living oddity. She had to put her love somewhere, or it would dry up. Maybe that's what love is– walking willingly into the unknown for the sake of the other. The sheen in his eyes told her he absorbed it like a thirsty desert.
If the clearest connection to God is inside the heart, when you move more and more into that love center, the ache of being two, of feeling separation, dissolves... Whatever is deeply loved — friend, grandchild, late afternoon light, masonry, tennis, whatever absorbs you — this may be a reflection of how you move in the invisible world of spirit. It is your beauty, the elegant point where everything is one. The unio mystica is a lived thing ... a transformed intention, an intensity, and the peace of walking inside it: The Friend.
~ from THE ILLUMINATED RUME, commentary by Coleman Barks
