The Evangelical Universalist Forum

I'm Maddly In Love With The Mystics

It’s an ecstasy and wonder. That doesn’t mean I have sex with them though. The union with love and beauty is an ecstatic experience that gets rid of sexual lust.

I’m also madly in love with artwork. I like to meditate on it and write poetry. We do this all the time at all poetry.com. They give you a prompt and you write a poem for it.

I’m also madly in love with taco bell. That doesn’t mean I have sex with the tacos.

Romantic love is a powerful image of the love of God because, unlike lust, it does not desire a possessable thing (like a body)…Romantic love is an infinite passion because it is an unconscious longing for the infinite God who is love. - Peter Kreeft

https://scontent-dfw1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xpf1/v/t1.0-9/11012914_122987234701049_5134240589741756548_n.jpg?oh=a8c20b774d5e326a051841456345f0d9&oe=56AC5E44

:smiley: Love the Mexican pizzas!! They are my favorite!

I’m also crazy, insanely, and madly in love with the spicy bean burritos. :smiley:

Here’s something else I’m madly in love with done by Cindy Skillman:

This is therapy

https://scontent-dfw1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xap1/v/t1.0-9/12079719_187683358231436_6832774568829209935_n.jpg?oh=6ec1aa457c9e9a7530852296000e6db0&oe=56E9ED11

The Gaze Of God

Your beautiful gaze captivates me
Bringing to life a calm ecstasy
With your love flowing into me
My world brightens tremendously

Wonderstruck here in your beauty
Cleansed, I can feel the real me
Who I am and have wanted to be
Close to you in a sweet intimacy

It has brought me healing. :smiley:

https://scontent-dfw1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xlp1/v/t1.0-9/11953069_162408957425543_2460985320384027446_n.jpg?oh=6c6760ef7ba55ac1b9e419dd7ef2ff2e&oe=56ADFD73

Christ My Friend

What a wonderful friend I have in you
With a beautiful mind and heart so true
Your word lifts me up when I am blue
The love of your Spirit carries me through

You lift me as high as the blue sky above
Bringing good thoughts for me to think of
As joy fills my heart it pumps warm love
Your Spirit is as lovely as a baby dove

Because of you my heart’s eyes can see
Hope in the future that’s waiting there for me
With wonderstruck joy in a heart so free
A beautiful friend is what you will always be

Holiness is a most beautiful, lovely thing. Of a more bright and pure nature, more serene, calm, peaceful, and delightsome. What a sweet calmness, what a calm ecstasy, does it bring to the soul. - Jonathan Edwards

I Am In Love With Love

I am in love with love
love is in love with me
my body fell in love
with my soul
and my soul fell in love
with me
we take turns in loving
we take turns in being loved

Rumi

I’m crazy, mad, insane, in love!!! :smiley:

Cole

All your posts about paradox must have made me think of you when I came across this passage by Augustine:

But I have to put to you a far wider question arising out of our subject. Why should only a very few know why all men do what they do? Perhaps you will tell me, Because they have learned the art of anatomy or experiment, which are both comprised in the physician’s education, which few obtain, while others have refused to acquire the information, although they might, of course, if they had liked. Here, then, I say nothing of the point why many try to acquire this information, but cannot, because they are hindered by a slow intellect (which, however, is a very strange fact) from learning of others what is done by their own selves and in their own selves. But this is a very important question which I now ask, Why I should have no need of art to know that there is a sun in the heavens, and a moon, and other stars; but must have the aid of art to know, on moving my finger, whence the act begins—from the heart, or the brain, or from both, or from neither: why I do not require a teacher to know what is so much higher than me; but must yet wait for some one else to learn whence that is done by me which is done within me? For although we are said to think in our heart, and although we know what our thoughts are, without the knowledge of any other person, yet we know not in what part of the body we have the heart itself, where we do our thinking, unless we are taught it by some other person, who yet is ignorant of what we think. I am not unaware that when we hear that we should love God with our whole heart, this is not said of that portion of our flesh which lies under our ribs, but of that power that originates our thoughts. And this is properly designated by this name, because, as motion does not cease in the heart whence the pulsation of the veins radiates in every direction, so in the process of thought we do not rest in the act itself and abstain from further pondering. But although every sensation is imparted even to the body by the soul, how is it that we can count our external limbs, even in the dark and with closed eyes, by the bodily sense which is called touch, but we know nothing of our internal functions in the very central region of the soul itself, where that power is present which imparts life and animation to all else—a mystery this which, I apprehend, no medical men of any kind, whether empirics, or anatomists, or dogmatists, or methodists, or any man living, have any knowledge of?

And whosoever shall have attempted to fathom such knowledge may not improperly have addressed to him the words we have before quoted, Seek not out the things that are too high for you, neither search the things that are above your strength. Now it is not a question of mere altitude, such as is beyond our stature, but it is an elevation which our intelligence cannot reach, and a strength which our mental power cannot cope with. And yet it is neither the heaven of heavens, nor the measure of the stars, nor the scope of sea and land, nor the nethermost hell; it is our own selves that we are incapable of comprehending; it is our own selves, who, in our too great height and strength, transcend the humble limits of our own knowledge; it is our own selves, whom we are incapable of embracing, although we are certainly not beside ourselves. But we are not to be compared with cattle simply because we do not perfectly discover what we ourselves are: and yet you think that we deserve the humiliating comparison, if we have forgotten what we were, even though we knew it once. My soul is not now being derived from my parents, is not now receiving insufflation from God. Whichever of these two processes He used, He used when He created me; He is not at this moment using it of me, or within me. It is past and gone—not a present thing, nor a recent one to me. I do not even know whether I was aware of it and then forgot it; or whether I was unable, even at the time when it was done, to feel and to know it.

Full text found here:

newadvent.org/fathers/15084.htm