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Pamela Tanner is honored to introduce to you, other intuitive writers who are close friends, whose gifted spirit allows them to give freely to the world, beautiful writings with messages of hope, love and understanding. We are all connected, all grieving and all terminal, which gives us the knowledge that life is fragile and we are never guaranteed tomorrow. Through Pamela Tanner's website, you will never be alone. We will be beside you, instilling wisdom, empowering your tender soul and guiding you on your path to self-discovery and recovery.
At the start of your new journey, as you embark on your new path toward enlightenment and serenity, Pamela Tanner would be deeply honored if you would give the gift of your time to read, "When Life Passes Me By With Uncertainty". It captures the essence of what some of us feel deep within our core, but perhaps, are not equipped to convey. At some point in our lives, some of us realize we all feel the same. That we are all connected spiritual beings searching for our purpose here on earth. Searching for the meaning of life and the love, peace and acceptance that has eluded many of us for most of our lives. Try to embrace everything you read on Pamela Tanner's website, as it will continue to reaffirm and remind us all what our souls have forgotten. "IN THE END LOVE IS ALL", is a universal truth. It was featured in The Toronto Star newspaper over twenty-eight years ago. Pamela Tanner invites you to read it below. For the artist in you, click on the "Writings" link below to read, "The Letter Of His Holiness Pope John Paul II, To Artists", in his address at The Vatican, on Easter Sunday, April th, 1999.
"In a civilization more and more mobile, loud-sounding and speaking, zones of silence become a vital necessity. So monasteries more than ever are called to be haunts of peace and interiority. Never let internal or external pressures affect your traditions and your means of recollection. Rather do what you can to educate your guests and retreatants to observe the virtue of silence. Cherish your separation from the world so comparable to the biblical desert. Paradoxically, this desert is not emptiness; that is where the Lord speaks to your heart and associates you closely to his work of salvation."
John-Paul II, 1980
IN THE END LOVE IS ALL
In the beginning of the emotional life, love seems to so uncomplicated, so easy, so natural, that it resembles a state of grace.
Then, love is simply everything.
Boy meets girl; girl meets boy; they fall in love; they ride off into the sunset where, without any need for instruction in the art of loving, they presume they will live happily ever after.
The only trouble with that scenario is that the nature of their love, for the lightening that strikes young lovers is not the sum of love, but only one part of it, the most perishable part, desire. Yet that mating instinct, that urge to nest can be so urgent that it can override everything else; education, career, common sense, family, friends, society’s opinion and personal judgment. Selecting a mate in this state is not so much a matter of choice as it is a matter of timing: the hormones speak and the heart finds an answer.
There is no room for fear in this young emotion, for there is no thought of failure. Indeed, young lovers believe that love is their personal invention, certainly no one else ever felt as strongly as they do. They are smug in their certainty of performance. Divorce statistics mean nothing to them, for all those who fall out of love are dismissed as never having really been in love in the first place. This couple is convinced that they will never know the perilous state of being out of love.
Matter of luck
Yet what lies in wait for them is really a matter of luck, married to the ability to articulate and respect each other’s wants and needs and a stubborn determination to make love last. Many fail; many more drift into a state of habit in which there is no affection, no caring and nothing resembling true love.
As we mature, we realize that love is anything but simple; some of us even wonder whether love, with all its complications is even desirable.
The middle-age response to love varies. There are those who think love is something we should outgrow, leave behind with our schoolbooks and our adolescence. There are others who take love for granted, who believe that it can be obtained and then postponed, put, like a telephone call, on hold, until the appropriate moment.
There is the man who pursues his career, too busy chasing the elusive phantom known as success to have loving time to spend with his children, let alone be a romantic lover to his wife.
There is the wife who puts her energy into being a mother, a cook and a housekeeper: she is too tired at the end of the day to have any energy for her role as mistress. Since her husband is too preoccupied with the affairs of business to have an affair with her anyway, she tries to fill up the spaces in her life with other activities, volunteer work or family.
Together they build clients instead of friends; they acquire a new rug instead of a new insight into each other; they build a castle, a swimming pool, a bank account and status instead of a loving marriage.
There are some who believe that love can be compartmentalized, that its pleasures can be embraced without its responsibilities; they spend years involved in a series of one night stands or brief affairs in which there is sexual contact but no intimacy.
And there are still others who try to find a substitute for love in applause or an array of plaques to hang on the wall, in a reputation for splendid parties or the greatest number of testimonial dinners. These are the people who believe that status is proof that they are lovable.
And then one day, something happens. A parent dies or the kids leave home and a couple discover they have nothing to say; a healthy neighbor in his prime drops dead from a heart attack; a woman wakes up at 4 a.m. to discover that she is cold and very alone. Whatever the trigger, the meaning is clear: time is short.
No substitutes
All the trite things suddenly appear as the truth that they are; from the moment that it is breathed into us, life begins to run out; the meaning of life can be found only in the way we live it.
It takes most of us far too long to realize that there are no substitutes for love. Corporate success won’t make a dint in the history books; the taxman will take all your money; the headwaiter’s recognition disappears when you retire; there isn’t a material possession in the world that can match a loving hug from someone who cares about you and for public opinion, a life lived for the benefit of that fickle lady is truly a life wasted.
Yet the more we value love as we grow older, the harder it is for us to surrender to it. We are paralyzed by the fear of failure, by our concern about looking ridiculous. We are often hedged in by responsibility.
For many, there is simply no opportunity, no soul on the horizon with whom to join forces in the greatest risk of all. And if the lightening does strike, we hesitate, for we come to each other weighed down with the ghosts of old loves, guilt, insecurities and defenses.
Where once it seemed so natural, now love takes great courage. And, yet, surely, anything else is out of the question.
For as we move into the last part of our lives we know that this, whatever it costs, whatever it takes, whatever it demands, however long it may last, a day or a lifetime, is worth it.
For in the end, love is all.
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