I just like the image. I don’t know if such an image is digitally altered. Even if it is, something in me appreciates the creativity of that. I like the vibrant color. I like it that it is two living creatures (let’s pretend, not digital).
This image comes from some of the advertising of Sadhguru, an East Indian sage, with the caption, “Love is not a relationship. It is a certain sweetness of emotions.” I peek into Sadhguru’s materials every now and then, an important teacher to one of my teachers — I find his message grounding.
I don’t know what love is. Big topic. It just feels important at the end of the day, or week, of year, or of a life. And more accurately, I know some of what love is.
I suppose many of us could claim such relationship with love. We feel it, or something that we call “love.” We seem drawn to it. Just like I don’t really know what the sun is — the details — but it feels important. I just enjoy the warmth, the life force, the Vitamin D. I don’t know the details of what air is — beyond basic biology or chemistry definitions. I know it is important and I enjoy being able to have the resources that keep these bodies of ours alive, and this earth globe thriving.
There are many things that we humans may take for granted. It’s OK to not fully understand, yet still follow instincts of experience. It’s also needed that we keep leaning in to the importance, even without understanding. I don’t fully understand being a parent, but I keep attempting my best, because I can’t not.
Of “love’s many layers, I tend to most commonly associate love with belonging and wholeness. Human beings seek belonging. It’s just how we are wired physically, emotionally, and spiritually (the intellectual takes a bit of back seat on this one). As habited or enculturated as some of us are to isolation, I believe our most inner operating system layers code us to seek connection. In one of the stories I tell myself, we seek the connection so that we can be in learning, so that we can feel a life force that is different that experienced in isolation. So that we can lean, even if just for a moment, to love.
All of that has something to do with working with groups. When I’m hosting retreats and trainings, it’s not a joke when I or my colleagues say, “I hope that we all fall in love with each other.” People laugh. But, my experience and continued hunch says, that people want the sweetness. Great if it is just for the experience of the now, in the moment, in connection, or in surrender. Great also, if that helps us remember what can be naturally sweet working and learning together.