There is no "out of love." It's what we are, deeper and richer than all the spiritual promises and far more ordinary and real. We don't "fall in or out of love" because we are permanently in the flow of love itself. Love is the way we are meant to live; love is the measure of the meaning of life ... When we touch life with love, it grows warm and shines down the corridors of the mind with a light that does not fade but grows brighter and more beautiful with the years.
When love is present nothing is the same. Even the drab gray walls of this prison begin to glow. It's as if we are transported into a different world, love's world. Then things are seen through love's eyes. Then the pain may turn into a poem, and the sorrow may blossom as a ministry.
Love is what shines from our eyes, beats from our heart, speaks with our voice, and meets itself everywhere. Sooner or later, love will reclaim us all. But to let that happen now, to die into love now, before the body dies ... Ah!
This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain all! Even if they're a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whomever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.