The diva knows a little secret.
Given the opportunity to participate in sexual activity, she might opt out on account of her undergarments not suiting her own sense of romance at the moment. That moment, seduced by surprise, she has left the house in her white cottons. Her bra doesn’t match her bottoms, she hasn’t been waxed recently enough, her last cycle left a trace. Call her what you may—vain, rude, obsessive-compulsive—it is her prerogative to bare herself only in a certain state of luminosity and lingerie.
Let’s now consider all of those almost-lovers (you, perhaps!) who have headed home wondering what went wrong. What was it you did to turn off the wily diva? You should have worn the other shirt, not made that one comment (stupid!), not eaten the last bite, and (for heaven’s sake) gotten a different job—one that made more money, or less money and more sense—or just lied about it before stepping foot into the home of the likes of her.
Or, of course, there is always the nagging, overall suspicion that you were entirely out of your mind to begin with. For why in the world would you have thought for even a minute that you might be worthy of something as crazy as this thing called love—from such a succulent and worthwhile creature, no less?
Meanwhile, in truth, it had and has nothing to do with you.
She didn’t like her underwear.
I am here to say, it never has to do with you.
Sounds radical, I know, and I’ll go even further—
Nothing is ever you.
First, the given is that you are an astonishingly gorgeous, perfect, lovable creature. You are not your shirt, your words, your wit, your manners, your appetite, or (for god’s sake, and once and for all!) your job. No. You are that which is there when all of these trivial things are stripped away. You are that. You are not your body, your face, your hair, your humor, anything the mind can arrive at—you are not even your kindness, your compassion, your actions, your giving blood once a month or calling your mother once a week. You include them. And they are not you.
What you indeed are is unconditional love.
So on the drive home, be with yourself. Be in that love. Go ahead, listen to the mind throwing up all of its accusations and conditions. All of its “should’ves.” There is no condition (not one) that it could be right about. Open your heart and just let it be her undergarments.
For the love of truth, let it be her undergarments. Let it be: “Huh, I guess something underneath, inside her, that I cannot see and have no business putting my nose in, is stimulating a feeling of this moment being less than perfect for what I thought wanted to happen.” Stay in your center. Sport your own shorts. It has nothing to do with you. Be in your perfection without looking to the outside to find out who you are, to validate what you are. Ultimately, it will make no difference if you find external validation or not. Thumbs up or down—you are love. And she is doing her thing, whatever it may be. Let it be.
This is with everyone and everything. It is not wrong to look for evidence of your worth on the outside. It is simply misguided. Your worth is unchanging and unwavering.
Do not look for the reason your plan did not come through. Be with what is happening. Stop seeking out the conditions of your unlovability. The reasons for what is happening are beneath the surface of what you know. Your brain’s idea of what should be happening, what was supposed to be, how much the world revolves around your actions, choices, career, breath—that is getting you nowhere.
The world is not centered on her, either.
The world relies upon the True Diva—which is all of creation. Let creation do Her dance, and the world do all of its, while you soften into the depths of perfection and the immersion into What Is.
And no matter the reason for her withdrawal, it most certainly is What Is Happening. Therefore, surrender fully into it. With all the love in this universe that is you…*
You can carry on your night, undiminished. (Mantra: “She doesn’t love her underwear.”)
No need to psychologically invade her dirty laundry or snoop in her lingerie drawer, saying, “I wonder what it was. What must she think of me?”
What goes on underneath is none of your nevermind.
So never mind it. Leave her relationship to what is unseen—to her.
Stay centered in yourself. Your business. You needn’t try to figure out hers. If your consciousness is busy scoping out her dirty laundry, chances are, no one is doing yours, and you will end up naked, cold, and wondering what happened. And thinking you need someone to take care of you. You don’t. You need to stay with yourself.
You are not to look to anything external as indication or validation of your worth. This will always lead to trouble. Someone else’s behavior is not to be used as a barometer of your worthiness. It doesn’t work, and how could it? Because probably they didn’t sleep the night before, or—
they get nervous around hot/smart/quiet/awkward/loving/anxious-whatever-you-are people, left their glasses at home and can’t see you very well, broke up last week with a blank-friend, had a hard time with the boss at work, had a spiritual awakening they are not nearly ready to put into words, had a friend when they were two years old who scratched their eye and looked a lot like you… things stirring, moving, influencing their behavior, that are unseen, oftentimes even to them, and most certainly to your self-absorbed mind. It is not self-absorbed in a bad way—that’s how minds work! It is just wrong about what’s happening for other people, because everyone else’s mind is equally self-absorbed. It is most often a bit off about what is happening, drawing from a database of options that does not include the other person’s downloads and that cannot include all that is happening in all its intricacy and brand-new possibility, in this moment. The mind is a database of the past. It is the only part of your body with no nerve endings connecting it with access to immediate information of what is happening around you right now.*
“Most people’s idea of love is one person’s neurosis feeling comfortable with another’s behavior.” — Paul Lowe
Love is not a thin line you need to walk.
If you are holding your breath, sucking in your tummy, or walking a line,
You have been pulled over by the cops while intoxicated. And, while perhaps drunk, you are not in love.
Rather than a tightrope,
Love is a floor, beneath you, unconditionally expansive.
It is the foundation of your very being.
Stop juggling behaviors and
Gracefully exit the circus.