Life's moments are like butterflies. Beautiful, colourful, entrancingly fascinating and their ways exceedingly unpredictable. However their magic lasts only for as long as you leave them to flutter from flower to flower the way they please. Anyone who has ever tried capturing one and succeeding in it, pinned it down, knows that they lose their vibrant colours and their power to fascinate quickly. In doing so you are soon left with a withering piece of dust that falls to pieces between your hands if you attempt to recapture or hold on to its passing splendour and unique liveliness.
There is a kind of love which unifies and unites and one that renders us poignantly - at times even painfully - aware of boundaries, limitations and our separateness. The mastership of true loving is to attain the awareness of the first and to henceforth exist in this state even whilst passing through personal experiences of the love that separates.
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