The light always seems too bright when you have spent a long time in the dark. It hurts your eyes. There is an actual pain and you want to avert your eyes, even if you do not really want to, it is what you do to avoid the immediate pain, and then, you turn your gaze back onto the light and again off and on, until you can see more clearly. Should the light then disappear and you find yourself in the dark again, you do no longer feel at home in the dark like you did before – it is worse than before, because for a while now you will be blind and you long for the light to return. Suddenly you feel cold and alone in the dark.
You know you did not start out that way; once you were in the light, once, a very long time ago, but somewhere along the road it got darker and darker until the light was all gone. That was a long time ago and all you can remember, if anything, was that something is missing.
Love. The light of the heart, the reason for everything, the very reason of life. You remember it vaguely. Like some all but forgotten dream you had a long time ago. You sit there in the dark, because now you are blind and there is much reason to not walk blindly down the road. Not just now anyway. You need to get adjusted to the dark before you move on again.
After a while you feel you need to decide if you push on or if you stay. Most of us push on, but some stay. Some stay in the general area, too scared to go on like the blind. Some stay permanently right where they lost the light. Some more than others. Permanently, only leaving their breath, their short lived imprints on the ground, there, somewhere in the dark. Fragments remembered by only a few and ever slowly fading into the full darkness, where no one will ever find what once were and is no more.
The few that remember go on carrying the imprints in the light of their hearts, but the imprints are stained, like the broken glass on the ground at an old abandoned house. You remember the old times, the old familiar feelings about them. Near, but never near enough to touch and you feel saddened by it and you push it away as far as possible. As though you do not want to be cut by the glass, you push it to the side with your shoe and you look at it again and tell yourself that it was a long time ago, another life, another world entirely. You walk away. And they stay.
For the ones that do push on in the darkness there is still hope for the light again. That is why they push on. They cannot stay, not there, in the dark, all alone and cold. There is always hope, even if faint at best at times, that they will see the light again. Love. Life. The reason for moving. The reason for all movement in the universe.
Being the reason for all movement in the universe, love finds the ones that seek it. It does not stay, because it is the reason for everything, the reason for movement. The cause of it.
We may not always have a clear vision and sometimes it will hurt our eyes for a while, especially if we lose track of where it is. The turns we can, might and will take are plenty and not always is the path clear, and at times our view of the stars are obscured by the clouds or some fog that lie heavily and thick before us. Those are the times we must rely on our instincts, on our faith that our movement will lead us back to the light, to love. We never give up that hope, and it is our hope that keeps us moving and it is our moving that gives us hope.
We may not always know the direction exactly and we may even be way off course, but we push on, because we know that there is light out there somewhere. The ones that do not seek it might not find it and even the ones that seek might not always find the kind of light sought for on the first try or even on the eleventh one, but if your heart is in it, and you keep your faith in it, the light will shine upon you and you will find yourself, after a while, looking straight into it again and it will be the light the guides you home.
Home. I remember home. Faint, but more and more for each day that passes in the light. I can almost make it out, there, ahead of me. There, before my eyes, where the light shines.
For the ones that was not born into the light and never got a chance to see it, I weep. For the ones that stayed in the dark, I weep. And so does all that seek the light.
The light. Love. The very cause of movement. The cause of all life. I remember life. I am moved by it. It caused me and through me more life and more love and more light. Love is not still, it moves and causes more love, more light, more life – and life is what you are and by that: love. You are love, you are life and you are light. You have never been anything else. Remember that.
And remember that the ones that stayed in the dark were no different from you. Sometimes we forget that, when we stumble over them and pass them in the dark.