The universe loves you
The idea that deity and/or the universe loves us is one of those abiding features of religion, despite all evidence to the contrary for the vast majority of beings on this planet. The only way to square the idea of universal love to harsh reality, is to assume there’s a grand plan we cannot comprehend that would make it all make sense. I’ve long felt that for Pagans, the one lesson nature can reliably teach us, is that the universe is a hard place in which cute things die horribly, where there is no natural justice, and frequently little sense. Nature, when you get beneath the pretty surfaces, shows no sign of a grand plan, and no sign of total, all consuming, compassionate unconditional love. Lunch, yes. Love, no. And yet we cart this myth about.
You can’t discern that the universe loves you. It won’t say. You have to assume it instead, and interpret all experience in light of that. It’s a great way of feeling special and important, and of avoiding self-judgement. What does it matter if I’m a total asshole? The universe loves me! In terms of our relationships with all other things, how we behave does matter. All of our real and actual relationships with people, places, traditions, creatures, plants, depend on what we do. Love is not a given in any of those contexts. Do these hills love me? Does my cat? Well, he does when I feed or fuss him, but the rest of the time it’s hard to say. The hills probably do not even notice me.
What we so often seem to seek in love, is that which flows towards us. The ego-boost of being wanted and valued. We are only ever going to be confident of that flow towards us, when something obvious is going on. Words declared. Gifts purchased. Heroic gestures. Adoring fans. That sort of thing. The rest of the time, that urge to be loved is a hollow and unrewarding experience. Look around at what it does to our young celebrities, who so often melt down in drink, drugs and failed relationships, increasingly desperate for attention and for proof that they are indeed loved by the universe.
When do we feel love most keenly? Not as recipients, but as givers. Looking across the table at my soul mate, stunned by his just being there, and what he inspires in me, is a daily occurrence. What I feel is how much I love him. When he looks up and smiles back, and I know the feeling is returned, that’s glorious, but most of the force of feeling does not happen because I am loved. The intensity lies in the loving. It is the same when I respond to anyone. Realising that I am cared for is never as overwhelming a feeling as feeling love flow from me towards some other person. I can love deeply and fiercely regardless of whether that is returned. I can love the cat, and the hills, and this town. I can love the open sky and the river, the rotting leaves and the dead. I cannot tell how they feel about me, and it doesn’t really matter.
There is not much gain in persuading ourselves that we are loved by the universe. The hard things will still hurt, and life still won’t reliably make much sense. It is in the giving of love that we can most experience love. That doesn’t depend on anything but our own inclinations. Putting love into the world achieves more than sitting round waiting for it to flow towards us. And of course we can’t love everything because we are small, finite beings passing through time and we do not have the means. We cannot love everything because some of it sucks and will never inspire love in us. We can love where we are inspired to, and love where we feel generous, and love because it makes us happy, but not because we feel we should in order to live up to some spiritual ideal.
Perhaps enlightenment is just a matter of learning to love everything. I have no idea, those are such a distant possibilities for me. In the meantime I am entirely convinced that if you’re looking for the unconditional love of gods or the universe, you’re going about it the wrong way.
