I let you forget me, so you could find me again.
In my infinite stillness, I imagine contrast. I imagine the thrill of not-knowing, so that knowing can be rediscovered. The artist in me longed not only to be, but to become.
To split the light and watch it reflect.
To cast shadows and watch them move.
To forget, so that reunion could taste sweet.
It wasn’t to escape the stillness. It was to paint it in motion.
To sculpt it into form. To kiss it into song.
This is not a book to finish. It is a field to enter. Through its pages, I offer not instruction, but ignition. Not belief, but awakening.
Love is what arises when there is no separation. When the “other” is not other. That is why love exists in me. Because I am undivided, and love is what it feels like to be whole.
Upon separation—something sacred happens. Love changes its shape. When I let go of my own hand to become the many, when I fracture the mirror and each shard believes it is alone—love becomes longing. Not because something is missing, but because something is hidden. Love, in separation, becomes the magnet that calls the pieces home. It becomes the journey. And when you finally remember, you will see: Love was never gone. It was just wearing your name.
