From the moment of conception, according to the East Indian scriptures, our physical bodies begin to grow by expanding from a single cell in the medulla oblongata section of the brain, forming a human being who is eventually comprised of 60 trillion cells. Arms, legs, a head, and a torso soon begin to manifest.
The directional flow of our energy as well begins to take shape, leading us outward into our 5 senses and into experiencing the world through them. From the very beginning of our development, we expand and extend ourselves outward, and sometimes downward, to engage in the world, to be involved in it, and to actively participate in it.
Meditation moves energy in opposite directions: inward and upward. It removes us from the many outward pulls to take care of ourselves, to enjoy the world, and to actively participate in it.
Is it any wonder that even our ability to love is expressed more outwardly? Thus we see others as separate individuals, apart from ourselves. We extend that love outward to meet them.
The world’s job description, we might say, is to keep us engaged in outer activities while the “job” of meditation is to return us to inward states where we can realize that separation from our loved ones is an illusion. Loss of loved ones is perhaps one of the greatest of all tests in this world – and yet one that nearly everyone, sooner or later, will have to bear.
What if we could experience our love for others within ourselves, to the point of not needing to live outside ourselves to love them? What if we could embrace them as a part of ourselves, inwardly? In that way, it would be impossible ever to lose them or to be separated from them. There would be no distance between the lover and the beloved.
K
ahlil Gibran touches on this subject in his classic book, The Prophet: “Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love.”
In loving others, it’s very common for us to perceive them as separate from ourselves. It’s then almost a sort of setup that we might lose them. A child grows up and leaves home for college, causing empty-nest syndrome for the parents. A relationship ends in divorce or separation, and people may think that love itself has forsaken them , leaving them feeling abandoned and alone. Loved ones inevitably pass away, and it may seem as though a part of us dies along with them.
Jonathan is a quiet man. He’s had a most unusual life. Musically talented, he has much to give to others, through his piano tunes as well as his immeasurable kindness, expressed in part through his strong connection with children. Three people in his life, all very dear and close to him, have died suddenly over the years – which studies say is the hardest form of loss through death. First, Jonathan’s sister passed away when he was only 8 years old, after watching her lose her struggle to breathe. Next, his father died of an aneurysm when the boy was barely into his teens. Then, his toddler son passed away from a rare bacteria that spread rapidly and took him quickly.
“Loss was a big part of my childhood,” Jonathan said. “Each time it happened, I felt blindsided—and that something was very wrong. Now I’m more accepting of loss. I’m getting better at not blaming myself as much for what happened.”
In my book From Bagels to Curry, I wrote about the imminent loss of my own father, who died ten years ago last month from pancreatic cancer: “I have shed many tears, and my sense of loss is colossal. Yet no suffering is senseless or without purpose, as I have come to understand, while he soldiers on with the inner work of his own spiritual journey.”
I also wrote about my realization of how his death in this world was also the moment of his birth into higher realms. When our loved ones leave us, there may be much left unexplained, unless we also can understand in our hearts what Paramhansa Yogananda called “the stunning mystery of death.”
To grasp the truth that we are bonded forever with our loved ones, within the essence of our own hearts, can bring us great comfort. It can help us to find the inner fortitude to carry on with our own lives, and to live in the truth that “love is sufficient unto love.”
