Driving along the asphalt with starry sky blessing pavement, the wheels rolling us closer and closer to a love pulsating steadier than the car engine, more true than the carburetor, safer than the metal shell which speeds faster than the chickadees.
Spikes of trees etch against the dawn skyline. If our eyes leave the road even for an instant, even for a second, we glimpse the trees and the openness of our gazing is love itself. Do we know this? Love itself gazes from our blue eyes, our brown eyes, our gray eyes, our hazel eyes.
Our attention turns (oh look at the magic of attention turning–its own perfect GPS!) to the radio singing its hip hop or old rock ‘n roll. Our ears such magic antennas! The simple act of hearing–truly hearing–the swell of melody–Love!
We roll down the window before the whisper of thought “roll down the window” even hatches. It’s not the window which gleams miraculous in its up and down motion. It’s our awareness of glass–movement–switch–fresh morning wind! Our attention itself a gift on the ride, a gift of love.
We think of love as a rush in the lagoons of our heart, a swelling, a bursting on the horizon. We think of love as fireworks against the moon. And love can pour like bliss oiling the motor of our journey. But love more subtle than huge outpourings of emotion already lies with the movement of eye, ear, nose, breath, the hand gently grasping the wheel. Even before our heart swells, love drives the car, gently moving here-here-now here.
As our radar turns, effortlessly, effortlessly, it leaves only love in the wake of its perception. The radar is love itself! Unconditional love…as the radar views equally tire and road, wind and metal, spark plugs and song.
In the convertible of our day love drives us.
Want to go for a ride?