I feel such a deep longing inside my heart. For truth, for connection, for deeper meaning in life. Recently the poem love dogs came across my path again. The idea that it is longing itself that is the opening somewhat baffles me. This longing is where I feel a deep void, an emptiness, a hollow ache. Yet, when I stop resisting and I feel myself leaning back into it, something does open. There's a shift in a very deep layer of my being. It's like the crack in the sidewalk where new life presses through. I feel the press of raw beauty making its way through the cold hard surface towards the light of day. I have no answers. Only this longing. And the promise that it brings.

One night a man was crying,
Allah! Allah!
His lips grew sweet with the praising,
until a cynic said,
"So! I have heard you
calling out, but have you ever
gotten any response?"

The man had no answer to that.
He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep.

He dreamed he saw Khidr, the guide of souls,
in a thick, green foliage.
"Why did you stop praising?"
"Because I've never heard anything back."
"This longing
you express is the return message.

The grief you cry out from
draws you toward union.

Your pure sadness
that wants help
is the secret cup.

Listen to the moan of a dog for its master.
That whining is the connection.

There are love dogs
no one knows the names of.

Give your life
to be one of them.”

Kirsten Warner