Who is the lover if not ourself?
This life running through vein and spirit, blood and bone, space and non space...
Who is the lover?
What happens to love if the dweller does not enter their own doorway?
What becomes of a nation of people who fall under the spell that Self love is a selfish act? What happens to love?
Without love of Self are we not left to a lifetime seeking, hungry for love; finding even in its arrival from 'out there' one is left in a state of denial for all proclamations of love ultimately arrive to the self who is not loving Self. One is left to wonder through life like a hungry ghost, forever consuming, with this eternal emptiness that cannot be filled.
Are we not worthy of love?
This that we are. This incredible expression of nature. This that the mind cannot even comprehend for its complexities and mysteries... is it not worthy of the most incredible state of love? Is it not worthy of the time to unpick all that is not love? To sweep out this home, every last corner, and to this bring your mantras, your bows, your devotion and kneel at the feet of the indweller.
The one who finds themselves here will find only love. Behind the fears, the anger, the hurt, the rage, the despair, the frightened, the wanting, the hunger, the cruelty ... sits only love.
Self love a selfish act? Or the very nature of our being?
Self Enquiry: Are you worthy of love? What comes in response to this question? Dig it out, find the roots.