The Thought I Woke Up With #238


Love is one of the, if not the, most abused and misused words in language. Any language.

But there is something else love is to humans. Something that dwarfs the things mentioned above; terror. Yes, love terrifies human beings.

To try and camouflage the bone deep distress and dread the very mention of the word love provokes, ego lashes out at it every which way but lose, including but most definitely not limited to, killing it. It doesn’t just want to kill love, it wants to do so slowly, painfully, publically, wherever, and whenever, possible. All in a mistaken belief that by killing love it will make itself safe and immortal.

In short, ego believes that love is its kryptonite. And, ego is right.

Ego and Love cannot co-exist. There aren’t too many things that are impossible when mind is put to work by way of resolution, this however, is one.

By extension therefore, trying to bring Love into this world is akin to attempting to mix oil and water, trying to blend them into one happy cocktail.

I will give you one simple, known to all humans example. Jesus Christ. He was Love. History tells us it didn’t work out too well for Him. Not only did ego try killing Him it made the act of doing so the biggest show in town. Biggest show on Earth, as it turns out. Look at me, look at me, I’m killing Love. Decreed ego proudly, and very loudly.

What kind of fool would try and kill love? Easy. One whose rotting heart is crawling with maggots of hate, and gripped from all sides by madness.

Now as everyone knows, Jesus wasn’t killed. Even the ones that pretend not to know, know. They just want to be publically pig-headed and mulish because they think it makes them, you know, like, way cool.

Simple fact of the matter is Love cannot be killed. To kill Love would mean to kill the Creator Itself. More than that, it would mean killing Self. C’mon, really? Like that’s going to happen.

Let’s just stop, think, and wake up a little, one eye open will do to start. Like the Child of Creation is going to kill Creation and commit suicide. And why? Because its nightmare tells it to? Now, dear reader, you may at this point be giggling at the absurdity of what I’m expressing and wondering if maybe I’d broken into my neighbours liquor cabinet?

To put your mind at ease, no, I haven’t tippled, and yes the whole notion is absurd. It’s beyond absurd. Yet … the absolute fact of the matter is that when we are in ego a part of our mind is out of Love.

And it’s not like ego offers anything worth having. On the contrary, the best ego can do is cheap imitations of Creation. Except for the threats. Ego is great with those. ‘Best you do as told Sparky or it’s the death penalty for you!’ Ego is big on the death penalty. Indeed the death penalty is its chief whip and weapon.

Ego’s version of love is the prime example of how pathetic ego’s offerings are. That’s because ego’s version of “love” is not Love. Ego’s version of love is selfishness wrapped up in shiny promises. The single best example of an “Indian Giver” present you could ever witness.

It is also “love” that fairly easily mutates into hate. Indeed when this so-called love mutates it’s a particularly ugly beast to behold.

If you are thinking that I’m saying love cannot be found in ego you are spot on. That’s exactly what I’m saying. Love cannot enter into hate. Nor can anything ego muscle its way into Love.

We do however, when we work at it, and through Love’s never ending presence, experience Love whilst in the ego state. In those instances, though, we are out of the ego state and in our rightful Love state.

You can liken it to being cold and warm. When you are nice and warm, cosy and tranquil it is not possible to be cold. Conversely, when you are cold and shivering warmth is absent.

One thing to keep in mind, as often as we remember to remind ourselves is— In realty, we are never out of Love.

Finally, my dear reader, if you think I’m exaggerating about humanity’s terror of Love, have a look around. Why don’t you see it, as opposed to what we have?

Until tomorrow,


The Thought I Woke Up With #238

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