Love me. Love me. No. I AM Love.

How to become the Source of Love.

by Trishla Jain

The Persian poet Hafiz wrote about the great pull in us to connect in his poem ‘Admit Something’. Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to read the full poem… I’ll break it down for you and we’ll juice it together. It’s a magic mystery poem packed full of light.

Hafiz asks us, the reader, to admit something. He says, Everyone you see, you say to them, “Love Me.” He says that we don’t say this out loud, we do it in the background. Hmmm… do I?

Yes, I do. We’re all in search of the same thing — solid ground to stand on. People to love us and validate our overall okay-ness. We want our friends to understand us, we want to feel like we belong, like we fit in. Some of us want to lead, some of us follow, some of us somewhere in between. I was always walking toward love, the acquisition of love, in all its forms.

So, I admitted it to myself, “Yep, I’m constantly seeking to be loved, approved of, noticed and even admired.” Once I saw this reality, crystal clear, the game of life felt a little lighter. Like my daily struggle was universal. I mean, if this guy Hafiz wrote about it so many years ago, my quest to be loved and accepted, must be ancient, unoriginal and ordinary. Part of being human. So, then what? Just keep going around the same merry-go-round for all eternity? I was getting pretty tired of it, I have to admit.

Hafiz suggests an alternate paradigm. He suggests, ‘Why not become the one/Who lives with a full moon in each eye?’ What? Wow! How? Is that kind of fullness even possible? That would mean that I would have two full moons, two fully realized entities, emanating from my face, greeting people with that sweet moon languageevery moment. I would be so completely awesome.

I would be the very source of love — the giver, the gifter, the lover of self and all. I would be love, lover and loved all at once, nowhere to go, nothing to do! I let this idea sit with me in a space of transfixed wonder. That wide open, anything’s possible, state of wonder. And I waited for life to teach me how to practice living this way — I knew these kinds of things were “happenings,” not “doings.” I had to be patient to let things blossom within. With a full moon in each eye.

Driving home last night I saw a huge full moon just above the road. It was so low, it brushed against the tops of the trees and headlights that dusted the highway — like it was trying to shake my hand and say, Hello there. It was huge and bright, more gold than white. A beacon. A real, scientifically validated, celestial body. That seemed completely not of this world.

It occurred to me how it was the most beautiful, full moon I’d ever seen. Probably because I was feeling the most beautiful I’d ever felt. Everything outside was a reflection of my insides. Angry inside, everything outside is angry and agitated too. Excited about something inside; everything outside is excited too. After an hour of sitting observing my breath during the night’s sitting meditation practice, I felt still and full and bright myself. I could relate to the moon! I could feel full-moon-ness inside me. I tried to make space for it and let it sit there; I hung out with it.

The full moon was not the brightest thing on the road. As I drove, the street lamps, neon shop signs and even brake lights were far brighter than the moon. They were closer, more immediate, they screamed for my eyes to look at them, just as modern life begs me to keep striving, achieving, chasing. But everything had been trained inward this night. The moon and I were driving as one, full moon inside, full moon outside.

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