How Do I Love Myself?
I knew my "job" for the weekend was to love everyone in the room, including you. I didn't know if that could happen. It felt elusive.
It's as though every thought creates two universes. One where that thought happened, one where it didn't. Repeatedly, to infinity.
It seemed I had reached a dead end, a crisis point. Then, all the universes collapsed back into one universe. In a moment outside time, where all possibilities are true, at once. I "bridged" to a universe where that dead end never happened, and love was much more obvious to me. The "job" arose from that moment.
I knew I loved everyone, within seconds of entering the room. With brutal honesty, apart from you. I didn't run away. I stayed with that absence. In the middle, without shame. Stayed with all the possible universes.
Late on the second day, the question was asked, “Are you 100% okay?" All the universes collapsed into one again, and I fell in love with all the possible yous, at once. Every possible past you, every possible future you—every single one. And I found the answer, "one hundred percent".
I can't not love you now. Experience might show up angry, sad, confused, happy, confident, shaky—but I can't not love you.
I didn't fall into love for that you, in that universe, in that moment of time. I met you in the Now, in the space of infinite possibilities.
And even these words don't quite do it justice. The perfect words elude me. The perfect words are not possible. Love is beyond the words.