Love Is in Your Smile

A Meditation on Oneness and the Great Undoing

Love Is in Your Smile
A Meditation on Oneness and the Great Undoing

Love is in your baby’s laughter,
that first innocent gasp of delight.
Love is in the trees swaying in silent prayer,
in rose gardens blooming through thorns.

Love lives in the hush after rainfall,
in the arching wonder of rainbows,
in the quiet glow of dawn,
and the weeping of the sea.
It lives in the mountains that hold ancient memory,
and in waterfalls that forget nothing.

Love also moves through thunder,
in storms that shatter what was once whole.
It rises in tsunamis that swallow entire histories.
It erupts in volcanoes, indifferent and holy.

Love does not look away
from the places that ache.

It is present—
in your daughter’s rapist,
in the trembling hands of your alcoholic father,
in the boy who vanished without a trace,
in the child born into pain, into limitation,
into a body that will never run.

Love is in the hands of the grieving mother,
and in the soldier who forgot his own soul.
It is in the crimes we cannot understand.
It is in the war-torn prayers
that never find an answer.

Because love does not divide.
It does not separate sacred from profane.
It does not cling to light and cast out shadow.

There is no duality in the eyes of the universe.

Nature holds it all—
the blooming and the burning.
It does not ask why.
It moves, without apology.
It wounds and heals in the same breath.
It buries what it once nurtured.
It births what it cannot keep.

All of it moves toward something unseen.
Toward awakening.
Toward remembrance.
Toward the soul's return to its own vast, original light.

To see this
is not to deny pain
but to meet it with holy recognition.
To say: I see you. And still, I bow.

When we allow this knowing to enter us,
we become spacious.

We begin to love what once broke us.
We soften where we once fought.
We sit beside sorrow
and do not demand it disappear.

We breathe.
We allow.
We become still.

This is not surrender in defeat.
This is surrender in truth.

This is not a resignation.
It is liberation.