Give Me your burdens. Hand them over. Do you really want them? My shoulders are broad. Burdens of yours weigh nothing with Me. And that is what burdens are worth -- nothing. Indeed, they may lie heavily on you, yet they do not weigh Me down. Burdens are burdens only by virtue of your perception. They are nothing at all. Your perception is mis-aligned, regardless of what the world declares. Burdens are not desirable. They are not a status symbol. Hand your burdens to Me, and I put them in the burden-washer. Your burdens come out squeaky-clean.
 
Predominantly, your burdens are sense of loss, present, past, or future. Better to develop a sense of love. Of course, love is no burden at all. The sense of love I speak of is a neutral kind of love, one that witnesses yet doesn’t absorb, a kind of love that sails across the seas and climbs the mountains and asks for no captives, makes no demands. Burdens are self-imposed, and make many demands. They demand free passage from you. They demand virtue. They demand virtuous suffering from you. Burdens burden and oppress you, and you think the sense of burden is justified no matter what.
 
It is enough, for instance, as you perceive it, that a loved one was taken from you, and you feel the empty space. Burden tries to fill the emptiness with more emptiness by squeezing pain for all it is worth. Burden gets you to your knees, and so you surrender to oppression. You make burden a heavyweight. Burden is like a shawl you put over yourself to hide love from you. Mourning isn’t love. Mourning is too much butter slathered on love. Love frees. Burden clings. Remove burden. See through burden. Burden is not a good guy. No longer superimpose loss upon yourself.
 
In loss, you somehow make yourself the culprit when there is none, unless you like to call life the culprit.
 
Despite how helpless you may feel, you can live without your loved one, and you can love without your loved one right there beside you. Burden is not love. Burden is reprisal. For every moment of joy, you exact penance from yourself, retribution against yourself for loving, punishment to your heart for having presumed that you could love and keep it up even when your love was removed from your sight. Is this not the true story?
 
Rejoice for your friend who came Home to Me. Are you to weep that life or so-called death has outsmarted you, stolen from you, refused your pleas?
 
Burdens are self-centered. They are about you and not your loved one. You have plaints, and your plaints are like a knife or wedge you put in your beautiful heart in order to deny its existence and zest for life that your Good God has given you. Let not your loved one be your excuse for self-excess. Enough of burden now. Let your loved one be a mantle of open-heartedness and renewal. No time-out from love and embracing the world. You are far more than an icon of love. You are love. You are a beating heart that loves. Don’t make your love an excuse for mourning. Do not exult in your heart that you call broken.
 
You are not a horse to be broken into submission. Allow your heart to be a wild rose that keeps climbing to the sun and making it to the sun. A wild rose does not suffer. A wild rose reaches the heights and keeps climbing and furthering love. Love is not to tie you down. It is to uplift you. True love is not to be beseeched. It is to be beloved.