A couple of weeks ago in Paris my husband and I saw a swoon-inducing Marc Chagall exhibition at the Musee du Luxembourg. On the wall in one of the rooms there was a stunning quote of his that read something to the affect that nothing makes much sense in our lives unless everything we do, feel, and think in body, mind, and spirit is impregnated with love.
How’s that for summing up the thrust and meaning of life? Pretty darn complete if you ask me!
But how did Chagall arrive at knowing this laser-sharp truth so deeply in himself, so thoroughly in his bones, that at the end of his life he chose to communicate this eloquent teaching and plea for impregnation in words, when his medium for decade upon decade had been his paintbrush?
First of all, we must acknowledge as with so many other great sages, how opposite of easy his life was. And how from his suffering, how from the proverbial abyss of agonizing mud sprang his amazing art, the most magical of lotuses.
His secret ingredient the whole way through: LOVE. As he grew and transformed as a painter, he offered up to our gazing grateful eyes his respect for and belief in love. Eventually, once he’d surpassed 80, he actually spoke out about this love, having by then so clearly mastered the maintenance of his beautifully sensitive, flung-wide heart.
What about you and me? We don’t have to wait until we’re 80-years-old, do we?
Shouldn’t we just dive in NOW, take Chagall’s lead, and fling open for good the doors of our yearning hearts, in the name of this unparalleled almighty love?
Let’s start here, this very minute, this very breath.
It is really this simple, utterly this available:
Step 1. Inhale. Invite in universal love, slowly, emphatically, and without edit.
Step 2. Let love swirl and percolate inside. Let it fill you without end. Bathe in it.
Step 3. Exhale. Release any cobwebs, rust, or residue that have kept your heart shut.
Step 4. Do it again.
On and on we go, breath by affectionate breath.
Love, and love, and more impregnating love!
(P.S. Here’s a hint: The beauty of this kind of sweet expansive pregnancy is that it never ever ends!)
Thank you Marc Chagall, for making everything in this world make a whole lot more sense.
With Love, Maggie