Last night, as I turned off the reading lamp and curled up to myself under feathered covers, I gave thanks for the affection and acceptance I’ve experienced at my place of work. Yes, the hospice gig is coming to an end (due to a quirky management decision), but after a fair bit of anticipatory grief work I feel amazingly at ease. The last thing I thought before falling asleep was, how wonderful to be around so much love, frequent touch, easy hugs, and heart-felt encounters. Those are the things that matter the most: how extraordinary to find them all in one place, day after day for the last seventeen months. No wonder my heart rejoices, imminent departure notwithstanding.
Sufi mystics are “drawn to the root of love,” writes Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee, they’re “not satisfied with the surface pattern of love with its emotional tangles and insecurities of human loving.” To them …
… the song of love is in every heart. Each of us longs to be loved, loved by a mother, a lover, a friend, a husband or wife. We long to be touched, to be held, to be embraced, to be understood, to be needed. We need to know that we are loved and we need to love in return. Love is the primal music of life, the song of creation, the fabric of being human.
source: Vaughan-Lee, L. (2000). Love is a fire: the sufi’s mystical journey home. Inverness, CA: The Golden Sufi Center, p.xi. image: wax-printed cloths from modern Ghana.