As last great philosopher-poet of the 20th century, Haddaway, asked us:
Nobody seems to have a universal definition. Perhaps some couples have a shared definition of love… just as some couples seem skilled at using their imagination to pretend to have the same meaning of love while their house of cards burns around them.
Love and gravity seem like a correlate. There is something intimately familiar in the dance of binary star systems; bodies revolving around each other just as two engaged in courtship. Some times they break free from their tenuous bond; but other times they merge, falling into each other, creating both super novas and black holes alike.
But gravity does not seem to have the selective, nurturing capacity of love. It can smash living creatures apart just as gently as a feather grasps the ground. Love, if the same force that compels people to travel from one end of the Earth to the other, seems to have little to do with absolute mass, even if there some law of attraction. A lost infant can compel the same globe-spanning journey as a distant mate met in the virtual or dream worlds.
As a child, it seemed like God didn’t love. My requests for a direct response were never answered in introspective yearning. I didn’t know at the time that I needed to listen in terms of omens and vibrations. Instead, I was spiritually disappointed by not being able to spontaneously hallucinate a burning bush.
Young Eric wished to know God’s will clearly, in the consciousness of that boy’s self. My vain, scared, exhausted ego strained from the impossible standards of perfection it set on itself. I could feel my life force drain in the never-ending quest towards transcendence.
Psychedelics seemed to offer a more direct path.
On the summer solstice eight years prior, the questions I was capable of asking on the subject of divinity were answered. The impact from grasping these higher dimensional patterns in turn implanted a seed into the far reaches of my infra-consciousness, taking several years to begin to blossom.
Love is not just hormones; a rush of dopamine and oxtocin. It is not just self-interested attraction, even if rationalists are comfortably numb believing so.
Love’s true meaning can not be captured in words, because it exists at a level more primary than the consciousness of our human experience.
If an ethical God(de) were to exist, would it not imbue its creation with a nurturing selflessness? Would it not be surrendering Its awesome powers of creation and destruction for the sake of gentleness… is it not able to help with varying levels of directness as a parent helps its offspring? At times, powerless to save the objection of one’s affection from ruin?
Love runs through and to all of us, despite the darkness we may perceive. It is woven into the very fabric of consciousness. The vibration of the first ray cast into creation.
We Terrans of the early 21st century may not yet be able to precisely define love. Yet we all know, in our heart of hearts, whether we feel this force flow outwards from ourselves to others.
I know in the core of my being that I have experienced Love — at least as directly as a mortal could expect to feel the infinite depth of the creator’s love.
The psycho-kinetic blast of the crystalline substance dissipated the blackhole of my ego. Free from normality, my awareness turned towards the surrounding context. In the darkness, a green circle blazed. The shape, the pattern, the self-referential flow of energy seemed to possess inconceivable wisdom… as if it were a being capable of spending an infinite amount of time to determine its every decision.This ring of green fire, composed of a higher dimensional pattern, as evidenced by the way its tendrils weaved in and out of my perception. It seemed to be my own spirit — or at least, the angelic form of which I was derived.
I shot backwards as soon as I had inhaled the spirit molecule on that sunny Portland day. My lover and partner in psychonautical exploration was there to grasp me as I gasped, body spasming as my mind was taken far to another place. The veil of normal consciousness was ripped rudely from my eyes, leaving a non-linear sequence of ineffable imprints.
My partner had thought I had gone irrecoverably far, and his concern for my well-being broke through into my awareness after a handful glimpses of cosmic knowledge. The familiar, circular green energy pattern interlocked with a purple one, and in that moment I experienced truebliss, love, and completion. It was as if lovers separated for lifetimes were finally able to grasp once again: total emotional satisfaction, a complete dissolution of fear and worry.
As I came back into normal earth consciousness parameters, a flood of tears flowed down my cheeks for the next half hour. The beauty, the wonder, the transcendence: all of this had left me a rambling mess of serenely satisfied emotions.
My limited self tried to rationalize what had happened; even tried to fit this pathway to all knowledge into a replicable experiment. But the part of me that demanded logical answers has softened its edges since that encounter. The seed that had planted another perspective, as if the spiritual union between the violet and green flames had some how created something new.
Over time, I started to feel that love is not necessarily what brings people together, but it does bring spirits together. It is a force capable of reaching through space and time to unite the subtlest of energy patterns that yearn to mingle, to embrace, to procreate together.
Finding out that I had HIV a year or two later pruned some of the thick shrubbery of my mind. Catching sight of my own mortality allowed me to clarify what was actually important in my life. My earthly attachments were not fully severed, but a few shackles were unlocked.
Love is an anchor by which one can safely hold while navigating to loftier heights. Decisions weighed in its presence tend to be for the best over time, even if they may be difficult in the given moment.
Grappling with one’s own mortality before dying is only one way to reduce hesitation when one jumps in the return to all that is. Despite the presumed way I contracted the virus, being open to others became a moral imperative.
Sensing and fulfilling the needs of the many felt necessary. To act in accordance with what is best for society, rather than what is best to insure I would have a comfortable retirement and a steady stream of lovers. Concern for one’s self in the future — of providing for the needs we don’t necessarily need — often prevents us from fully grasping the possibilities being presently offered to us.
I feel as if I live on borrowed time. Born two decades earlier, I may have already perished by this age of 28. This extra time is provided by the grace of human ingenuity, applied towards a common good. But, now that the seed of my awakening has blossomed, my body, mind, and spirit are able to communicate. They are able to work together rather than simply provide friction to each other. I know that I am able to cultivate life and energy in order to survive long enough to complete my mission… judging from how uncomfortable my physicians were when reading my viral loads as consistently low despite being unmedicated.
I am back to an“undetectable” quantity of the virus in my blood, after a two and a half year break from pills that I can feel subtly draining my life force. At the same time, these pills have opened up levels of intimacy that I had blocked off. It feels great to have temporary relief; freeing my generative force from destruction; removing the possibility of tragedy being tied to my moments of utmost intimacy.
As the connections of my heart blossom, the cage I constructed to hide my monstrosity falls apart. While the threat lays dormant, it is still genetically etched into the fabric of my physical being.
Having closed off those connections while unmedicated, I was able to refine my conception of love. To focus on healing others, rather than on getting off. Physical intimacy can innervate our deepest valleys, but expectations of sexual reciprocation can taint even the most tender of relationships.
My conception of love is still evolving.
I believe in the unity of all spirits, but can’t deny that there is substantial discordance between humans on the etheric, mental, and emotional levels. Physical violence is on a decline, but metaphorical and literal border walls stand imposingly erect at every moment. We are a people that are navigating towards disparate realities; incompatible ideologies fracturing society, and perhaps even causing a divergence of Earth timelines.
With no expectation of return, love can flow freely outwards, reaching those who need it. In turn, it cycles back to our awareness in unexpected ways, beyond our conscious control.
Yet giving energy to all those who request it is a short path to depletion. Without resonance, energy given to others can dissipate before even reaching the other, shred by an orbital storm of emotional debris.
When I say this I say I love you, it means that I am willing to pour energy your direction, because I believe it will flow back, amplified by your unique harmonic resonance. Loving you means navigating towards the same optimal timeline; that our sight is set on the same outcome.
I want more than just occasionally sliding into each other’s fractal slice of the universe: I want to actively co-create our dreams into a shared reality.