Let Love Land

There’s a Japanese myth of the sun goddess Amaterasu, who, after being wounded in battle, hides in a cave, plunging the world into darkness. The gods eventually lure her out, not with words, but by holding up a mirror so she can see her own brilliance. In this way, they say, the world was restored to light.

We have all been wounded, and in response, have hidden parts of our light. The criticized artist who no longer creates. The curious child who, once mocked, stops asking questions. The disappointed lover who closes his heart. And so it is a rare blessing to meet those who can hold up a loving mirror and remind us of what we’ve forgotten in ourselves.

Yet we often push away these mirrors — and are even encouraged to do so by our society, which prizes not just independence, but also the belief that love must be earned. If you want love, we're told, give gifts, perform gestures, prove yourself, help others so one day they may help you. These acts, though beautiful in themselves, can become shields against vulnerability, a way of not looking into the mirror.

Love is everywhere. There's no corner of the universe where its beams don't fall. But we have to learn to let love land. Ask yourself: What parts of me feel safest giving rather than receiving? What happens in my body when someone mirrors love back to me? Where do I shut my eyes to love because I’m afraid to feel too much?

You can see it all right here in your breath. Ask yourself: What kind of breathing would feel good right now? Then let your body receive that kind of breath. Notice where your mind wants to turn breathing into a doing, an effort, something to prove. But after all these years, your breath still sustains you unconditionally, never requiring proof. Let it in, without ideas or justifications. Your breath doesn't ask why you're lovable. You don’t have to either.