The prison of personality chokes off love by first inhibiting and finally denying spontaneity. Perfect behaviour is spontaneous behaviour. Love doesn’t calculate. It cares nothing for results. Love’s reward is the action itself.
Don’t want anything. Don’t regret anything.
If everyone seeks to be happy—through pleasure, acquisition, travel, sex, food, religion, drugs and a myriad of other means—then why is that result so seldom achieved? Why don’t we die laughing?
A gift that aims at some result is not a gift; it’s a deal, an arrangement.
If we crave results, we will get them. After which we’ll feel compelled to ask, “What’s next?” This is ego’s most reliable hook. It wants us out of the now and into hypotheticals.