Aching Hunger

Deep within me, there is a hunger. A hunger for love, intimacy, connection, belonging, union. I believe that we are all born with this hunger, and that the soul's journey in this lifetime is to find that nourishment, find that way home, fusing this call of the soul to return to wholeness in this body: Heaven and Earth united; desire embodied; sacred union within the self.

My body is alive, pulsing, tingling, breaking open from this hunger. Cells are alive, dancing, screaming out and saying yes: yes to the longing, yes to the desire, yes to ripping off the garments that cover this nakedness and ravishing it, making fervent, passionate love, an erotic feast of the moment, wanting it so badly, peeling back the skin, the flesh, sucking on the heart of the divine oneness until it explodes in orgasmic waves, where flesh and spirit are indiscernible, intertwined, wrapped in a sweaty, breathless embrace.

And, yet, there is also the simple longing, that hollow space within that yearns to be filled, to be met. It grieves for that union, begs for that union, cries out in feverish, desperate gulps and gasps, wanting, wanting, wanting, so alone in its seeking that sometimes it forgets to look back in on itself and realize that it is already whole. That the separation from the desire is an illusion, a trick of the mind. Drop in and feel, feel that hole and dive through it, find the whole by going through that hole. It is that discomfort of going through, that not knowing of what lies on the other side, the illusion and belief that there is nothing there, only more darkness, that sometimes holds me back, holds us back. Our heart's desire is only a breath away, a jump away, a willingness to sit in that discomfort, that unknown, that mid-flight leap of faith where one doesn't know if there will be anything to land on.

I wrote awhile back that addiction creates the illusion that the love received from the wound is somehow more fulfilling than that received from wholeness. It is the willingness to jump through this illusion, without knowing what lies beyond, that leads the way out, the way back in that sacred union.

Such is the dance: having faith in this hunger, following this ache, this yearning, and simultaneously diving into it, becoming it, embracing it. I feel this ache within, feel this pulse within; they both exist, emptiness and aliveness, and it is feasting on both, making love to both, embracing both that creates this sacred union. I keep reminding myself, that it's not out there, it's in here, inside me, in this body. It is so easy to think it's out there, in someone else, in something else: woman, money, cause, purpose, sex, parent, so easy to think, to think, to think, rather than to simply feel, feel, feel what is right here, right now.

Feast on this body, devour it, lick it clean: the sorrow, the joy, the passion, the anger, this banquet that our souls are calling us to gorge upon. The only way out is through, and the divine awaits on the other side.