Love. There were lots of spaces, pauses and affirmations of courage before I managed to croak out the word love out loud and then type it. It used to be a tough word and meant walls down with a naked, full frontal view of the workings of my guarded heart. Months ago when I attempted writing this blog it caused me great angst but hey, it’s all about conquering the fear of the subjects we writers loathe to spin into promising prose, plus I had mental conversation that went something along the lines of: Seriously, don’t be an ass, write it because you now know better.
I’ve read countless books, facts, scientific theories, fiction and great romances on the topic of love and the only conclusion that has evolved into a juicy fruition is that I am no expert in the field. Lovely. Admittedly, I was a skeptic placing greater faith in my abilities to predict a shoe sale than foretell an estimated arrival time of love in my life. I’m sure the universe had a great laugh at my ignorance and passed the joke onto destiny to which my response was to look up at the sky and say, love? Really? Followed by rebelliously flipping the bird upward, looking like a lunatic to my neighbors.
My belief was based on the only examples of love that I’d known growing up. These were essentially general clichés from cheesy movies, my parents- possibly the greatest romantics of all time and are still together and my mother’s countless romance novels I read as a little girl huddled under her bed. Talk about a deluded perception. If I was to take it literally I would have discarded any man that didn’t instantly profess his love to me unless he was on a horse, had a perpetual fan blowing his long hair away from his Adonis like abs** and made me swoon. My dear diary entries are in a vault, they read to the girly penmanship of: Dear Diary, I’m looking up at the moon, is he looking at the same moon? I can feel heartburn as I try to shove that memory out of my mind. My only defense is that I was ten when I wrote it and during that time my mother had a stack of Harlequin romances lying around. That’s like loaded ammo for an impressionable little girl that has a tendency to fantasize about everything.
Dissecting my feelings became a familiar habit and a bad one. In relationships I would compare my brimming emotions to my clichéd examples of love and when they didn’t formulate synchronicity with my ridiculous notions of it, I would shrug and tell myself that love seemed to be more fiction than reality. I didn’t really know how to stop analyzing everything and flow, not until recently. One morning over breakfast, I chatted with a dear friend of mine who was a life coach. We spoke about love and its many forms that manifest in our lives. Sometimes all you need is one sentence from a person that strikes a chord in you that resonates so deeply that you could very well compose an internal concerto. He looked at me and said ‘How is love impossible for you? How ludicrous! You’re filled with it, take a closer look.’
Crunching on a piece of toast I had an epiphany that left me quite mute which is rare. I drove home thinking whoa, I’m so loved, it’s all over the place, and I’m filled with it! Why didn’t I see it before? Especially when I was in a constant state of inquisition with the human condition. Was I the last person on the planet to know that there wasn’t only one kind of great love? Look at nature I told myself, look at the trees, the way they hold their branches up to the sky, that’s nature’s profound way of showing love to the divine!
This is what I realized in the most sincere and simple terms that I could humbly word. No one is without love, no one. You can find it everywhere, not just in romantic relationships but in the actions of others, your family, friends, your house of worship, in children, pets, nature, in the smallest gestures, acts of kindness and even when someone is annoyed with us. The list is endless. We spend so much of our lives looking for it everywhere else, expecting it to complete us, but only we can do that for ourselves. The biggest and greatest love you can ever have is the love that ignites in you, not the narcissist kind but the love that comes from the purest place within and once you tap into that, it’s a limitless source and you immediately begin to recognize it everywhere else. The moment I acknowledged and felt the clarity of it, I knew that anything else that came into my life would be a bonus. Yes, a bonus!
So I went back out on my driveway like an insane person and looked up at the sky yelling, “I get it, finally I get it!” I wasn’t really expecting a response but a man walking his dog asked me if I was feeling ok. Smiling I nodded. The estimated arrival time of love was never an issue, the more I acknowledged the love that illuminated my being the more I began to automatically receive and still receive love because the effect is not only ubiquitous it’s magnetic.
*I’ve literally counted the amount of times I’ve proudly dropped the L-bomb. – 22
**Abs are always, always welcome.