In your room,
On a couch I sit with you.
I, on one side.
You, on the other.
This cushion that lies between us,
This symbol, this cushion that makes
My heart heavy from a love no longer
Allowed to give of itself.
What was once surmountable,
Be it an hour, a minute,
A street, city or country
Now seems hopeless.
All that lies between us…
Has the power to burden my heart.
And even if you unfold,
Resting your head on my lap,
And I, caressing your head,
Run my fingers through your hair…
Even with this my heart is not at ease.
This heaviness bearable only
Because it stems from love,
You may give your body,
But is that love?
To how many have you given that?
And in return how much real love
Has come to be?
“… If you love me and I don’t love you, what will you do? Even physically. You might say how terrible, you might get depressed, and all the rest of it – it’s all self-centred [By self-centred, what is meant is, a limited, ego-centric view that isolates and separates by carrying past experiences, likes and dislikes, into the present distorting and twisting reality in the attempt to ensure invulnerability, safety]. I live with that self-centred activity, that’s my life. And how will he [the one who loves] convey it to me? Because he has that intelligence, compassion, love, he has communication with me, he sees my degeneracy, my conflicts, my misery, all that. I can’t see it. All that he says to me is, ‘Please listen to what I have to say.’ ‘Take time, look at it, let’s examine it.’ He’s pointing out to me. Either I go with him or not. Right, sir? That’s the actual fact.”
– Krishnamurti (To Be Human)
Or, in my own words, “Please, come meet me. Let’s go into it, let’s get to the bottom, let’s go through it together. Come meet me half-way.’ In short, please love me, let us expose our egotistical thoughts and fears…let us face our past and let it nourish us. Like the Ouroboros let us devour what has been and grow, be wholesome, from its continual disgestion and integration.