if love had a shadow, this is what it would look like

‎”Don’t you care for my love? she said bitterly. I handed her the mirror, and said: Please address these questions to the proper person! Please make all requests to the head-quarters! In all matters of emotional importance please approach the supreme authority direct! – So I handed her the mirror.” – D.H. Lawrence

It’s not your job to love me. It’s mine. – Byron Katie

Since Valentine’s Day is around the corner, I want to talk a little bit about
love.

As a woman on a path of spiritual development, I have been burnt in
many fires I helped myself to build.
And most of them have been about love. Or lack of it. So many times in
my life I have begged for it,
I have prayed for it, I have demanded it, even broken my wrist for it. That is how much I have doubted love.
My skepticism has created pain, suffering and separation.

All my life, love was something that I needed to work hard for. To prove
it. To earn it.
If I was good enough, Dad would not leave me. (Oh, the dramas we go
through as innocent children!)

As a woman, the drama didn’t end. I travelled around the world to get that exact same approval.

All these years I suffered over love because I didn’t let love just be. I
demanded a result. Love had become a risk. A risk that my life was
depending on.
And, most importantly, I had forgotten that love is not something to
have, it is who I am, in my very nature.

I remember seeing women, all ages and sizes, who seemed to have understood this.
It was clear that these women loved themselves. They were completely in their feminine power, juicy, full and radiant,
and I used to wonder, how do they do that? Were they born that way?
They were like magical beings to me.
I found them mesmerizing, yet I also felt envy, because I knew how far away I was from being like them.

This idea that love is somehow limited, has caused me to attract partners
who would mirror that back to me.
And that mirror would always end up shattering into a million pieces.
There was never going to be a happily ever after. Never.
Not until I looked into that mirror and faced my sadness. The sadness that came from not loving myself.

Shit.

I had to surrender. I was angry. And I was humbled. All my life I had
avoided this moment. I had never really understood what surrender meant until I was
on my knees, begging god
to show me how to release myself from this endless cycle of self-destruction.
I died, somatically. On the floor, I lost it. And found it again.

“It’s not your job to love me; it’s mine” became my mantra. Anytime my
mind wanted to wander outside to find an object,
usually my ex-partner, to blame or judge, I repeated this mantra, and it
gave me a tremendous amount of support.
Not just support but ecstatic joy. Truth. And I have always been a lover of
truth. Even when I could not love myself, I loved the truth.

The past eight months I have been filling my cup to the point where I can see
my cup floating in the ocean,
constantly being filled by the limitless love that makes us who we are in
our deepest essence.
It makes me laugh with great compassion when I think about all the ways
I made myself suffer over love–
kind of like a flower yelling at itself to be more beautiful…

Perhaps I will suffer again. Hopefully this time with more style and gentleness, awareness and openness!

This Valentine’s Day I will buy myself pink roses. And to that ‘future
special someone’ out there,
I want you to know ahead of time that I am yearning to be ravished by the
love that flows through you.
And I’m dying to bless you with the devotion that pulses through my
veins.

But first, let me go and find those roses.

© Riikka Rajamaki

Please share below one occasion where you thought you had to work for love. And share one occasion where you realized yourself as Love.

Riikka Rajamaki