Understanding "Till I Was Loved By You" as Spiritual Inquiry
In this 2008 live performance, Miten presents "Till I Was Loved By You," a devotional song that uses the language of romantic love to explore spiritual awakening, self-recognition, and the transformative power of being seen and received by another consciousness. The song moves beyond sentimentality to address existential questions about identity, completeness, and what it means to discover oneself through the mirror of another's recognition and love.
This performance captures Miten singing with Deva Premal and Manose at a live concert in Slovenia in June 2008. The piece operates on multiple levels simultaneously: as a love song, as a spiritual teaching, and as an exploration of what happens to consciousness when it recognizes itself through another's gaze. Rather than a simple expression of romantic devotion, the song functions as an inquiry into the nature of self-awareness and the role of recognition in spiritual awakening.
What Does It Mean to Not Know You Were Blessed?
The opening refrain establishes the core paradox: "I never was loved so deeply, never was loved so true, never was loved so completely till I was loved by you." But the subsequent line—"I never knew I was blessed but now I do"—points to something more subtle than the surface narrative suggests. The singer is not merely expressing that love felt absent before; he is suggesting that a fundamental aspect of his own nature remained unrecognized until reflected back to him through another person's love.
This touches on a classical spiritual teaching: that consciousness is fundamentally non-dual and complete, yet something in its expression requires acknowledgment, reflection, and recognition to fully know itself. The "blessing" that goes unrecognized is not conditional on someone else—it exists inherently—but the *knowing* of that blessing appears to depend on being held in another's awareness. The song asks: Can a blessing exist if no one recognizes it? Can the self know itself without the mirror of another?
Angels, Guidance, and What Was Still Missing
In the second verse, Miten lists the forms of grace and support already present: "Angels all around me, I had angels at my door, angels in the kitchen barefoot on the floor, and God to guide me and friends when I was down." Despite this abundance of spiritual and relational support, something essential remained absent: "But still there was something missing till you came round."
This is a significant teaching point. The song suggests that even with access to divine grace, even with angelic protection and friendship, there is a particular quality of being that can only be accessed through intimate, conscious recognition by another human being. This is not a diminishment of divine grace—the angels and God remain—but an acknowledgment that human love operates in a different register, addressing something in us that requires the specific warmth of another person's full attention and presence.
The verse also contains an interesting domestic detail: angels "barefoot on the floor." This grounds the sacred in the everyday, suggesting that spiritual presence is not remote or abstract but intimate, walking through ordinary rooms, participating in ordinary life.
Time as Fiction and the Permanence of Love
A turning point arrives with the philosophically dense section: "And time is a fiction, I am not afraid. Time can only take away all the things our minds have made. But love, glory is no small thing. Yes, and I knew him when I heard you sing."
Here Miten introduces a non-dual metaphysical claim: time itself is a construction of mind. This is consistent with many contemplative traditions that understand time as a function of consciousness rather than an absolute feature of reality. If time is a fiction—a mental construct—then what persists beyond time's reach? The answer: love. Love is described as distinct from "all the things our minds have made," suggesting it is not a mental construct but rather something that endures beyond the reach of temporal change.
The phrase "I knew him when I heard you sing" is cryptic but profound. It suggests a recognition that transcends ordinary knowing—a direct intuitive perception that occurs not through analysis but through sound, through presence, through the vibrational signature of another's authentic expression.
From Touch to Seeing the Self
The final full verse shifts register again: "I never was touched so deeply, never was touched right through, I never loved so completely till I loved you. I never knew I was blessed, now I do. I never got to see the man in me till I was loved by you."
The progression here is significant. First, being touched deeply and completely. Then, the recognition of one's own blessedness. Finally, seeing oneself: seeing "the man in me." This is the culmination of the song's teaching—that being truly seen and received by another allows you to see yourself. Not to construct an identity, but to recognize what you actually are. The "man in me" suggests wholeness, maturity, humanity recognized and honored.
This addresses a deep human hunger that goes beyond companionship or validation: the hunger to be known, and through that knowing, to come to know oneself more completely. In traditions of non-dual philosophy, this recognition of self through the other is understood not as dependency but as an expression of the fundamental unity of consciousness recognizing itself.
The Repetition as Practice and Deepening
The song's final movement shifts into repetition: "Till I was loved by you" repeated multiple times, with variations like "She give me love, crazy love." This is characteristic of devotional music and kirtan—where repetition is not mere emphasis but a practice, a gradual deepening into the state the words describe. Each iteration invites the listener (and presumably the singer) deeper into the experience, allowing the conscious mind to settle and the heart to open.
In the context of live performance, such repetition creates a collective field. The audience's attention, the musician's breath, the acoustic resonance of the venue—all converge into a shared state. Miten and Deva Premal, both experienced practitioners of devotional music traditions, would be using the song not primarily as entertainment but as a vehicle for collective awakening, a way of creating the conditions in which recognition and love become directly available.
Where to Go from Here
If you resonate with this song's exploration of recognition and self-knowledge through love, consider investigating further resources on non-dual philosophy and the role of the other in spiritual awakening. Advaita Vedanta traditions speak extensively about consciousness knowing itself. Works on contemplative relationship, particularly those exploring how intimate connection facilitates self-discovery, offer practical frameworks for understanding what Miten is articulating here. You might also explore recordings of Deva Premal and Miten's other devotional work, which consistently weaves together the personal, the relational, and the transcendent into accessible musical forms. Finally, if you have access to a live performance of their music, attend one—the difference between recording and presence is precisely what the song seems to suggest: recognition requires the actual presence of the other.
