Love…is also a form of poison, for to fall in love is to want and to need everything necessary for survival from one all-powerful and barely differentiated Other.
Love is not a word or an idea or even a place to go to or a thing to strive for. It is not something to grasp and smother and mold and change. It cannot be orchestrated, played, controlled or manipulated. You can not cup it tenderly in your open hand or wish it into being through fervent prayer.
If you love another person, you have to become a no-self, a nothing. When you love, you have to become a nobody. When you are a nobody, love happens. If you remain somebody, love never happens.
One becomes afraid of love, because love opens the inner emptiness.
Love is not an effort. If love is an effort, it is not love.
It is the same case with the ultimate experience, it happens when you do not make an effort. Then you can simply float with the river to the Ocean.
When we are in love, our love is too vast to be wholly contained within ourselves; it radiates outwards, reaches the resistant surface of the loved one, which reflects it back to its starting-point; and this return of our own tenderness is what we see as the other’s feelings, working their new, enhanced charm on us, because we do not recognize them as having originated in ourselves.