HERE

—My beloved, soul filled with light,

let me remind you

of what you already know

and so often forget.

Receive these words with love,

with a quiet openness

to the sweetness of Love.

—What is it that I forget?

—That there comes a moment

when we stop searching.

Not because we have found

all the answers,

but because we begin to recognize

that the deepest question

was never far from us.

It was here.

In the life we are already living.

In the body we already have.

In the day that has already begun.

—Then why do we keep trying to arrive?

—Because sometimes we imagine

that there is a true life

waiting for us beyond this one.

A life more whole,

more conscious,

more luminous.

But Love does not ask you

to arrive at another life.

It invites you

to be fully present

in this one.

—Even here,

with all that life brings?

—Precisely here.

Where someone looks at you.

Where a word can wound

or return you to peace.

Where the body grows tired.

Where a door opens.

Where something ends

and something begins.

Where you do not know.

Where you love.

Where you lose.

Where you begin again.

This is where Love desires to be.

Not above your humanity.

Not beyond your humanity.

Within it.

—Then what does it mean to inhabit?

—Not to control life

so that it resembles what you imagined.

It means to stop living

somewhere else.

To stop being always

a little further ahead,

a little further behind,

a little farther away from yourself.

And to return.

Return to the body.

Return to the moment.

Return to the encounter.

Return to what is happening.

Not to make every moment extraordinary,

but to discover

that nothing needs to be extraordinary

to be inhabited by Love.

—And how will I know

that I am inhabiting life?

—When what you once recognized

no longer needs to be explained.

When Presence

no longer needs to be sought.

When truth

no longer needs to be defended.

When Love

ceases to be an idea

and begins to live

in the way you are.

In how you listen.

In how you look.

In how you touch.

In how you let go.

In how you remain.

In how you live

when no one is watching.

—Then inhabiting life

is not adding something to it.

—No.

It is removing what keeps you

absent from it.

—And what remains

when I am no longer absent?

—This.

Being here.

Fully here.

Not waiting for life to begin.

Not waiting to become

someone capable of living it.

Here.

Now.

Just as you are.

—And Love?

—Allow Love to find in you

a place to dwell.

Because Love

did not come to take you out of life.

It came to inhabit it.

And life is not only

what has been given to you.

It is also

the sacred space

in which Love

can become visible.

So, my beloved:

INHABIT LIFE.

Do not run from it.

Do not turn it into a path

toward somewhere else.

Enter.

Remain.

Live.

And let Lovefully inhabit it in you.