The Inside Passage

Love gives without need for return.  In its largess, it teaches me.  To be a Love giver, without worrying about the consequences, without fear for how that Love is received, or whether it’s received at all.  For all Love can do is offer its incorrigible magnitude.  Whether I’m in a place to receive It isn’t something with which Paradise is concerned at all.

I recall a time, as a young man, on the Inside Passage of the Alaskan Panhandle.  Along the coasts drunk with sea, mountains lunged from the water and gouged the envelope of the atmosphere, it seemed.  Glaciers calved into the berg-strewn fjord.  Ice walls moaned and crackled as the high mountains loomed over them.  But in alcoholic misery, all I could think about was where my next drink was coming from.  I could look at the spectacle about me, but I couldn’t see.  Vision relinquished itself to obsession.  So little depends on the eye.  Even God, as much as God Loves, as powerful as God is, has not the capacity to alter the way in which Love is received by the object Its desire.

© 2014 by Michael C. Just