The bouquet of thoughts, experiences, feelings, ever taking shape, ever fading away, some staying longer than others, they all distillate into a single expansive silence.
This silence is not the oppressive suffocating kind which occurs out of deadlock and frozen communication. This silence is deeply nourishing and loving. It permeates the being and expands into a gentle sense of awe and gratitude. A sense of wholesomeness, of being connected to the universe itself.
It is this expansive silence that accords value to every thought, every experience worthy of being cherished. It is the essence of every speck of beauty we encounter.
Love is like water.
Water may be cascading down like a waterfall, or it may be in the form of robust waves of the ocean. It may be flowing as a gently gurgling stream. It can be calm and placid as in a lake or swimming pool. Water may be flowing under the ground. You may get just a hint of it, as dew drops on the morning grass.
When Love is heady, passionate, it is like the waves of the ocean. The over-flowing Love of a mother, where she herself is overwhelmed by the intensity and force of Love that she feels, is like water falling rapidly from the mountains. When it is the quiet implicit Love of a father or a reticent mate or even of someone close who may seem unloving, it is like water flowing underground. The Love of a friend, the lighthearted laughter and companionship it brings, feels like dew drops on the morning grass. The calm, still, placid water in a lake or swimming pool feels like the calm Love of a saint for all.
The water in all cases is the same. The Love in all cases is the same.
Water takes on the color of its receptacle. In a red bowl it looks like red water. It feels romantic. In a blue bowl, water looks blue. It feels like the Love of a father, mother, mentor or guide. In a green bowl, water looks green. It feels like the loving companionship of a friend.
The water is neither red, nor blue, nor green. It is the same water.
The Love in a romantic relationship, amongst friends, between a teacher and a student, between a parent and child – is not different. It is simply Love. There are no different kinds of Love.
The receptacles, the relationships, are different.
What gives comfort when you look at it is the water, not the receptacle.