Love. It's this intangible yet dominating, thing? It's what we deny or seek every day of our lives. It is innate, it is necessary, it is a shape-shifter, ephemeral and constant at once.
I'm attempting to define it, which is a funny thing about language and human beings. But, I'm going to try, so that I can then attempt to live by it/with it/through it more intentionally. This week I'm going to examine it. Or maybe this month. Until I'm finished. I'm going to ask people and I'm going to ask myself again and again.
Here's the first attempt:
Love is the soul's nourishment. It is something we all want to know, but don't just know how to do. It is an action and a state of being. It is vulnerable and soft and very very big. It looks through soft, naked eyes and sees just what is in front of it. Just sees. It surrenders to it's own softness and vulnerability. Looks adoringly at it's own complexity and changing definition. Love commits. Love makes difficult choices. Love is, intention and energy. Love is, thoughtful. Love listens. Love is patient. Love is very quiet (it doesn't have to say much to be understood) and has it's own unique style of humility. The kind that isn't stoic or proclaiming. Just, doesn't mind waiting because it is enough on it's own. Love is enough on it's own. It can stand alone and will stand alone waiting. Love is loose and flexible. Love is sure of itself. Love is not controlling or demanding, but has boundaries and needs, too.
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