I wrote this a few years ago. I'm sharing here in full and adding the comment that it's funny how you preach to yourself when you don't even know it!
When I run after what I think I want, my days are a furnace of stress and anxiety; if I sit in my own place of patience, what I need flows to me, and without pain. From this I understand that what I want also wants me, is looking for me and attracting me. There is a great secret here for anyone who can grasp it... Rumi
Oh, my love, how you've spiritualed; sought out, pleaded for, meditated on that direct, unmediated, experience of spirit, the invisible divine and holy Beloved.
You've looked up, downward like a dog, and sat around; except, of course, inside because what could be there.
You've chased ceremony, traveled countries and continents; seeking through another place in space or culture for that might connect you to other, to another.
You've followed the rules, stayed within the lines and the laws of the universe to experience that thing of truth. Surely the wings of angels or eagles will visit like a gentle wind, a reminder of all that you want to be true. You've preached about it and prayed for it to come true; true communion.
And then that motherfucker, that disruptor of your fine whites & rules & laws & prayerful poses, has the audacity to show up, to appear in all its dirty glory.
It's not convenient, looks darkscary in contrast to the environment you've sanitized against those things. It's power is nothing that you could have imagined holiness to be. It looks like that thing from under your childhood bed because you're frightened. Of not just it, but of it's reflection of you. You can't yet see Grace in the fire as well as the dust and detritus.
And you're pissed. Because it has come home to you, it has heard your call, your cry. It has crossed eons to answer you, to bring itself home to your heart but it's not pretty, doesn't fit your belief system or desire for soft and gentle. That angel doesn't sing a gentle hymn or Om. It roars with the need for release from those things that have bound it, tied it up away from you. It sounds off- key because you're off-kilter. It doesn't fit. It smells. Not like perfume but of ancient, stale, pent up energy that has run to you, trusting in your faith & desire, waiting to dance with you.
You wanted the ecstasy. Not the responsibility. A pretty partner, not the visceral, raw Nature of spirit. Because love is gentle, sweet, but this...
This. This ferocity, breathing, heaving pulsation of power that brings you the gift of peace & partnership isn't what you thought you asked for. It doesn't do bleached white, but it's white-hot, it's of the salt of the earth, exalted through and older than time. It will move you to bleed from your heart and sacrifice all that is not bound in love.
This doesn't ask for peity and requires no protection from and the only prayer it requires is, "Hello. Welcome home." It's untamed beauty, and messy, volcanic appearance in your life and power is merely a reflection of your own. Like attracts like, especially when you've spent a lifetime asking for it. Like the dirt under your fingernails, this is evidence your gift has come to ground, bringing the heavenly holy of into humanity.
Be not afraid.
You are entwined with beloved at all times. The expression and reflection that frightens you is only the universe opening to all its glory to you--beyond understanding, beyond imaginings and the marketings of lightness and loveliness.
If you can see the beauty in the dark night sky, then you can see it in the very gift of god that brings your prayers to life.
Love, introduce yourself to your new partner, your new reflection. Bow to each other and know grace has brought you together.
Be not afraid. For we are as much mud as we are stardust. And I am with you. You will learn to ride the wide, rain blessings on those around you, dive into the depths of your own hearted nature with the Mother.
Be now. Unafraid. Open.