In the End, Love
“Love is not just an idea. Love is a living, breathing essence that the wise can pluck from the air at will and then, like a master artist, mold it into something beautiful.” — Sydney Banks, Second Chance (page 115)
Huddled under desks, attempting to shield themselves from bullets, journalists facing death at the Capital Gazette in Annapolis, clutched phones and with trembling fingers left messages for their friends and families: “I love you.”
After his fatal accident along the snowy side of a West Virginia mountain, a good Samaritan held my late husband’s hand to offer comfort. Later, she told me, “I saw the ring on his left hand and I asked him about his family. He said he had a wife and a daughter. I asked him if I could pray for him. He said, ‘no, but please pray for my family. I love them.’” He died praying for us.
As I prepare for an elective surgery about which I feel very confident and peaceful, I can’t help but remember that the unfolding of life is always a great unknown — fragile, precious, imperfect and beautiful. All week my heart has been filling up with love and gratitude for all the people who have loved me and whom I have loved.
Our minds quiet when we encounter the great dark unknown that no personal thought can pierce. And, in that space of stillness, the living, breathing essence that we are rushes up, bypassing every single petty thought that divides us from each other. We don’t have to make ourselves think about loving others, we just do, because love is who we are.
When I first met Sydney Banks, who uncovered the Three Principles I now spend my life sharing, I knew I was in the presence of someone who possessed an uncommon wisdom. There was something about him, a feeling that emanated from him, that touched my heart and quieted my thinking. I couldn’t ask him questions. There just didn’t seem to be any that mattered.
Walking in the streets of Ganges, on Salt Spring Island in British Columbia where Syd lived, he and I fell a few steps behind his wife, Judy, and my husband, Bill. Syd and I stopped beside a mural on a wall in the town depicting some facet of life. Pausing to appreciate the street art, Syd turned to me and with a quiet authority rooted in the certainty of knowing, he said, “Linda, remember this. In the end, all forms pass away and what is left is Truth.” Truth is Love. Love is and always will be. Deep in our hearts and souls, we know this.