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  • Writer's pictureAnnelisa MacBean

Death in the Field of Love

Over time, I’ve noticed, Love (or Life, or Divine or God) moves into and out of form. Time dissolves the forms, but the Love remains, as a felt sense, a constant energetic that does not dissipate. I noticed this particularly when my mother died, and later that same year, when our cat passed away. Now, sixteen years later, their forms, their bodies are definitely gone, but the love I felt in relationship to them remains. I’m noticing too, that it is impossible to know what form love will take in the future. Or perhaps I should say it is impossible to know in what form I will perceive Love, or onto what form I will project the Love that lives in my heart. Even when Love is not in form or in entities I can point to, like my mother or my cat, I can refine my inner seeing and notice that Love is working behind the scenes . . . gestating a greater capacity, expanding and deepening my heart’s ability to open, to give and receive. While the old forms are dissolving and recycling, new ways of being a loving being are coming to life as me and around me.

When I become too fused with a specific form I believe I need—a particular person or way of finding purpose and meaning—my heart will inevitably break when Love obliterates that form for something new. And it always does. This shattering, this death, is ultimately the great gift of form, evidence not of error or loss, but of the seasons and cycles of transformation and evolution on my soul’s journey through the geography of a human life.

Dissolution, death and reorganization is a special kind of grace, a progressive liberation from attachments that my ego and human mind struggle to know. But my heart knows. My body knows. I am so deeply grateful for the forms of Love in my life as they appear. Sometimes I remember to stand in awe at the ways Love expresses in the tumultuous, messy, and magnificent sanctuary of time and space, while simultaneously I find myself accepting that the forms I love are on their own journey. My husband and friends are on their way to departing this place and moving on, into another world.

Join with me in seeing and experiencing that refuge is not ultimately in the forms Love takes, but in the field of Love itself . . . in that which never comes and goes, but is eternal, that which enlivens and Loves through us. Love is what we are.

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