The basic feeling with sensitivity at its center.
The sensibility ; what makes us vibrate deep within us in relation to what moves outside of us and also in us. From me to another and from me to me. This is what alerts us, we sum of being, which excites our curiosity and energizes us to enter into contact with our environment, with the other. She's the hunter's companion that we are and that makes us better discern the prey, the object of our interest, between the jaws of uncertainty and growth.
Love.compassionate love, this veil thrown over the abyss of our incompleteness. incompleteness, this attitude of not seeing or not not want to see chaos and vertigo in the face of the unknown where we are trying to move so as not to be alone, in order to feel despite everything coexist in a world without landmarks. It can be religious love sometimes apt to contemplate without acting. It can be devotional love one way to bigger than yourself. It can also be an altruistic attitude pitied by which to be able to subsist by giving to one's neighbor.
Love has no opposite.love is not passion in love who, elle, has its reverse side in hatred and bitterness. love passion can become attachment and corrupt the free relationship of being to face. It can also be linked to our impulses and our desire for possession. consumerist. He is the hope to hope for ! He is the wrecker of our possibilities to be big and beautiful for the being on the way that we are. By the, we abdicate in front of lower than us. And this is how, too much rapidly, we become humus for future generations without having make enough use of our talents. It is up to us to be strong and responsible for passing the baton in good conditions to our descendants.
True love has no opposite. It is a feeling of radical and stable unity. He calls us to loneliness, that of these infinite spaces where time no longer exists. He us summons to universal reliance, to that which connects all things through the universe in a dynamic way in a perpetual game made of developments and envelopments of its own energy, of sa libido large, of its expansion out of the unspeakable.
Love is permanent construction. Love is permanent destruction. There is personal uniqueness within what moves and does not get lost in conjunctures of forms and figures that constitute the substrate of our existentiality, necessary step to set up our identity allowing the legibility of any commitment.
Love knows no fear, desire, selfishness, jealousy and hatred. He does not attach himself but understands and feel everything. Love goes ahead. He walks on the corpse of illusions. He is amoral and upsets propriety… he who loves can even hunt the merchants of the temple !
It's not just love …, the love of …, love with … There is love without ” a ” private. It remains then to decline the ” death ” at the risk of what happens, the bend path. L’ ” love ” is invisible vowel in grand speech on being. It is the mysterious syntactic articulation that makes the blood bleed. heart of poets. It is the improvised campaign party and yet imperturbably reissued !
Love does not freeze, he is intuitive and orientation towards any collective achievement. It is increasing complexity without it weighing us down. He is the mother of all achievement. He is clean air. It is drunk and eaten at the source, without waiting, and his breath is as light as a firefly under the flame of an eternal birthday ritual where we would all be expected. Love is a social bond. love is young …
The growing love.
083