Mar 2016
Dear God, Spirit, Mother Nature or Void,
you are sleeping and I am sitting by the fireplace, thinking of the ways in which Love is.
They say that in order to love, you must love yourself. That in order to be in love, you must love another before yourself.
I find that in times of struggle, where the two parts of us that are different are meeting for the first, or the fifteenth time, its easier for me as I get older, to put on a smile and shake her hand, or reach out and embrace her, than it is to make a snide face and square off.
I seem to care more about saying “I am sorry”, than I do about being right. I know it may not always seem it, and it surely isn’t always that way, though it has been more often now than it ever has been before.
‘Perfect’ is the most ridiculous word in our language. What does it even mean? Its so based in opinion and for us to apply it to each other, or to have ideals centered around perfection, I can't see how that's a reasonable if everything is ever changing. Our wants, desires, feelings and selves, always evolving, leading perfection to forever elude us. Unless we start to believe that perfection is not what is, but accepting what is. No one is perfect, but you can perfectly accept them.
I don’t understand love, or how to love in the ways that I wish I did. When I sit with myself in a quiet field or park and I look up and theres a tree over me and stars twinkling through the gnarled branches, I feel at peace. I feel alone and not alone. When I have space to quiet my mind and the beast inside me I feel love like I dont often feel, one that is unbiased and non-judging. I can focus on the fact that I am alive and that the universe is vast and we know so little about so much, that to just have life is pleasure enough. To have with it the other things, overflows the cup. Its easy in those moments to forget about bills and responsibilities, strife with my partner or friends, hobbies and tasks I need to work on, things I need to get better at, feelings I need to change and adapt and move past.. Its easy to just exist and be happy to be existing.
I wish I could carry that feeling with me everywhere. Its just that in moments of blissful magic, I know that it will be over. I have lain with others and felt satiated in their love, I have had gracious friends and wonderful companions and all those things have come and gone like seasons changing. I wish, however futile it is, that I could just hold onto that feeling. When she is lying with her head on my chest and we are looking at the stars and I feel her breath and her heartbeat and she says “I love you” and we have forgotten about the rest of the world and are only existing in the love we have for each other, it is bliss. And it is transient. And I ache for that feeling even while living within that feeling, for I am missing it before it has even gone.
Appreciating things in the moment is difficult. It gets harder the more often you lose friends and loved ones, to allow yourself to love as deeply, when you know how deep the pain is in the loss. It seems the closer you get to the light, the darker the world is around you. The more you love, the more open that you are, the colder things will become when that dissipates.
What a ******* conundrum.
you are sleeping and I am sitting by the fireplace, thinking of the ways in which Love is.
They say that in order to love, you must love yourself. That in order to be in love, you must love another before yourself.
I find that in times of struggle, where the two parts of us that are different are meeting for the first, or the fifteenth time, its easier for me as I get older, to put on a smile and shake her hand, or reach out and embrace her, than it is to make a snide face and square off.
I seem to care more about saying “I am sorry”, than I do about being right. I know it may not always seem it, and it surely isn’t always that way, though it has been more often now than it ever has been before.
‘Perfect’ is the most ridiculous word in our language. What does it even mean? Its so based in opinion and for us to apply it to each other, or to have ideals centered around perfection, I can't see how that's a reasonable if everything is ever changing. Our wants, desires, feelings and selves, always evolving, leading perfection to forever elude us. Unless we start to believe that perfection is not what is, but accepting what is. No one is perfect, but you can perfectly accept them.
I don’t understand love, or how to love in the ways that I wish I did. When I sit with myself in a quiet field or park and I look up and theres a tree over me and stars twinkling through the gnarled branches, I feel at peace. I feel alone and not alone. When I have space to quiet my mind and the beast inside me I feel love like I dont often feel, one that is unbiased and non-judging. I can focus on the fact that I am alive and that the universe is vast and we know so little about so much, that to just have life is pleasure enough. To have with it the other things, overflows the cup. Its easy in those moments to forget about bills and responsibilities, strife with my partner or friends, hobbies and tasks I need to work on, things I need to get better at, feelings I need to change and adapt and move past.. Its easy to just exist and be happy to be existing.
I wish I could carry that feeling with me everywhere. Its just that in moments of blissful magic, I know that it will be over. I have lain with others and felt satiated in their love, I have had gracious friends and wonderful companions and all those things have come and gone like seasons changing. I wish, however futile it is, that I could just hold onto that feeling. When she is lying with her head on my chest and we are looking at the stars and I feel her breath and her heartbeat and she says “I love you” and we have forgotten about the rest of the world and are only existing in the love we have for each other, it is bliss. And it is transient. And I ache for that feeling even while living within that feeling, for I am missing it before it has even gone.
Appreciating things in the moment is difficult. It gets harder the more often you lose friends and loved ones, to allow yourself to love as deeply, when you know how deep the pain is in the loss. It seems the closer you get to the light, the darker the world is around you. The more you love, the more open that you are, the colder things will become when that dissipates.
What a ******* conundrum.
