Do not blame Love for the agony it brings;
Love is the King of all paths,
And the heart not wild with longing
Is already dead, already a burial ground.

One evening in September, author Andrew Harvey came to speak at the TS headquarters about the poetry of Kabir. I had never heard him speak before. I remember reading some of his work years ago and not feeling drawn to it. At the time my (exhausted) mind was occupied with raising children and all that comes with it. From the moment a child is born, one’s life is handed over to them. It is the way it is and the way it needs to be. Children are, for a good portion of their life, defenseless creatures who need hands on help, encouragement, and immense nurturing. This is why it is the hardest job ever given to anyone. Even when you feel you have nothing left within you, your heart warms at their cry despite the frustration that all you want is to close your eyes and sleep. Many people who don’t have children can recognize this experience—all too brief from where I am now—if they have ever had a puppy. It is this constant dance between exhaustion and invigorating love that revives you to keep on going and giving. [node:read-more:link]