Nothing can stop the winds of love from blowing. It is extremely a frightening experience yet pleasant sensation as true love often storms off combining gusting gales, capricious tempests and torrential rains, with lightnings and thunders. With love, you feel all the cosmic elements are conspiring to steal your free will.
I liken love to true priesthood, you approach its altar cautiously and reverently, but your mission is to make a difference. When it lashes out, you stand helpless, though armed with your free will, yet your fights and struggles resemble the helplessness experienced during nightmarish sleep visions.
True love is a vocation, many are called but few are chosen to serve on its altar. Priests proclaim their vows of obedience, celibacy and poverty. With love, they are translated into compassionate and unconditional surrender to the beloved, unwavering devotion and giving up of your total self and possessions.
True love embraces meakness as its strength, servitude at its power, and self-sacrifice as base to its oneness.
The profession of true love is a very paradoxical experience for it gives the lover a new identity, new attitude and new feeling on one hand, and on the other hand, the lover gives up control of his own destiny.
If you think otherwise, you are called but not chosen.
