The Rebirth of love

Rebirth of Love

There is a story resonant in my spirit of rebirth. When you are younger rebirth is a mysticism that we do not fathom exists. Talking to any experienced adult the haze of rebirth is no longer a whimsical concept spoken softly from the pulpit. At least for this experienced woman being reborn is more than a spiritual rite of hope it is an absolute requirement.
The prophet Jeremiah states it the best: (I have taken the excerpts that stress a certain point)
"I would comfort myself in sorrow; my heart is faint in me. Listen, the voice, the cry of … I am hurt. I am mourning; Astonishment has taken hold of me. Is there no balm in Gilead, Is there no physician there? ….. Oh, that my head were waters and my eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night …..! Oh, that I had in the wilderness a lodging place…..." (8:18 - 9:2)
Jeremiah was the weeping prophet. He had sorrow upon perceived sorrow. He embraced an isolation and loss of love so deep that the only result was to weep to the only one who could hear. How does that relate to my concept of needing to be reborn?
Once you have traveled down a path were sorrow blooms like flowers and you once had known the beauty of a wild orchid you look for the way back to the flowers. You no longer desire to accept the depth of your isolation in the wilderness, you want to walk away. Jeremiah wept and called to God. I weep call to God and ask for a rebirth of love.
I pray that I could crawl into my mother’s womb and start anew. I’d be born and take this life as a blanket of assurance that experience can be sorrowful yet comforting.
So as I recall the story not being able to reasonably be certain if it is one that I created or read scripturally, I understand. I understand the desire to start anew and wash away all of the mistakes of yesterday. I sympathize with a longing to have a fresh start. Many people say you make a mistake and you learn from it. After you learn you drop the baggage and try again weightless. Doesn’t anyone other than me recognize that life is not that simple? The human construct does not allow us to simply create a memory and destroy without causation either immediate or to be called upon again in the future.
“Our task is to make ourselves architects of the future”, Jomo Kenyatta states. If this is true as I believe it is then each step that we make is imbedded on the earth, the spirit and in the mind. If we are leaving these imprints and impressions on humanity each experience can not simply be washed away because we will it to. W\e trudge across the sands and grass dropping seeds and blowing winds spreading our collective experiences to the future. Just like Jeremiah and countless others who had and have seen the blossoms of discontent and connectedness we become afraid of the garden we lay and the blueprints we leave.
I am afraid at times of the harvest that I would reap. I wonder how my children will be able to follow the map that I have inked with my blood, love, sweat and tears. So I lay down my burden and pray for a rebirth. The only way to cease the weeping and be a better architect is to die and be born again. The ability to see life with fresh eyes before the canvas has become splotched with colors that do not mesh.
I don’t look at the concept of rebirth as a theology that requires years of study any longer.
To rebirth love is simple. Yet the simplicity is a choice. Either you choose to see the weight you have gained over the years and the impact it has on your outlook on life or you accept the weight and the conditions that it presents. I choose to no longer accept each day as the fate of sorrow, disappointment, stress and ill harvest.
I will accept the memories I have created and are choosing to destroy will cause a rebirth of a new life. In this new life I will be able to accept that the blueprints that I had been following were not created for me. I have chosen to allow a creation of love that is constructed by the greatest architect I have ever known. The tears that I had been shedding and allowing to drown myself in have blessed me in an unparalleled manner. It allowed me to die and give birth to a new vision of love.
The rebirth of loving without fear. The rebirth of loving to construct a future greater than me. The rebirth of hope that the weeds in my garden can be uprooted by the seeds of love, joy beauty and hope that I now plant. The rebirth of love does not exclude the reality of hurt and pain. It only allows a buffer to the penetration of those hurts. The memory of who we used to be will allow us to not hold on to disappointment as a comfort. The rebirth of love is new and allows us to remember that real love is a foundation and can not be conquered. I will die many times over to birth a new love and memory, to birth a new garden to reap a new harvest.
I will be a better architect for the future by re-birthing love.