Love is a many splendored beastie

Without the cattle prod of love, there would be no reason to contemplate the tiny possibility that I may in fact be wrong in my point of view. Without that sword wielding pixie in my right ear, I might be prone to run away to the infinite experiences of feasting at mind's pleasure table.

Pain can only teach so much; it teaches that no, I don't like that effect, but it is love that provides the grace in charming the attention in our moments of decision. Love takes me by the nose and turns my head around as I wonder why the fork in the path looks so strangely familiar.

Love has so many reflections; call it humility, forgiveness, generosity, detachment, gratitude... All parts of the whole.

I can be so stubborn in my refusal to try and understand the perspective of another, typically one I profess to love. It's amusing and disheartening to watch the antics of a shrieking ego trampling over logic, compassion, prior promises to self, in it's single-minded aim towards being 'right'. When I hear myself sometimes, it's hard not to cringe. It's hard to remember that the ability to perceive the ego is a glorious opportunity to identify with the pure perceiver, versus the tantrum-throwing fool I'm observing. But, then again, everything becomes easier with continued practice... I just wish that I'd stop providing myself with so many practice opportunities...