I Don’t Know What “Love” Is.

Words are symbols used to point to phenomena, objects or experiences occurring in space and time. “Love”, like many others, has been washed out; robbed of the weight of its heartthrob. Some regard it as a feeling in your bones; some maintain that it’s a quality of relationship and commitment, while some use it to qualify their attachment to processed sugar, Big Macs or Ryan Gosling’s beard. I don’t know what “love” is, but I think I’m pulling on a line.

I might be attached. Hell, I’m definitely attached. When she steps out of the shower, when the warmth of her deep sigh licks my neck, when we lock eyes in silence, when she laughs hysterically, eats, belches: I feel my chest become the opposite pole of her magnet.

But like a river, there is depth to attraction that goes beyond the ripples of our surfaces.

It’s how we’ve learned to be with one another. Her openness is palpable. And I meet it with strength and acceptance enough so that she may fall completely open, to the point where there is nothing impeding the connection of our circuitry. To sit in this space you must release all fear. Look at your mind and resistance with genuine curiosity. Tell her the things your ego says you shouldn’t: what you’re afraid to say; what you don’t want her to see; that you doubt; that you fear committing; that you’ve thought about having children with her.

It means nothing, yet everything.

Withhold will only end up creating distance. I seek depth, truth, so I choose to give myself completely.

I respect her because she takes responsibility for her mind. She can look at what she brings to the present from the past, what she sees in me that she sees in herself. I can do the same. I try to be less stubborn. She knows that seeing the anger, fear or fault in the world around her is her own choice, so she chooses beauty and power instead (more often than not.)

I appreciate her because she sees in me what I can’t. With gentle, penetrating intellect, she reflects back to me my strengths and weaknesses (wisely, strengths more often than weaknesses.) In her patient grace, I’ve erred, forgave and grown immensely. There is no part of me that I can’t show her. I feel truly free.

Know that some days it won’t always be this way. You may be repelled by the very same quirk that usually draws you in. Sometimes you will choose to find anger in her words and distance in her heart. You may feel guilty for witnessing thoughts that she is not enough. But is it really her, or is it you?

Mind and emotion are waves with crests and troughs; as surely as they will swell so they must fall. Joy and depression; love and fear; safety and insecurity – there could not be one without the other. Your wisdom lies in remembering, during times of tribulation, that you are the ocean and not the wave, not one emotion but the possibility of a great multiplicity.

You are the creator. What you put onto others is ultimately within yourself.

You can trump entropy. Move together; dream and grow together. Inspire one another to go deeper, and deeper, and deeper. Resolve to discover your fullest potential. Never cease from exploration.

And maybe you won’t win. Maybe one day you will grow apart and, despite all your poetic optimism, you will be proven a fool. But ask yourself: “Do I want to live like I’ve already lost, or strive for the greatest victory?” If a sprinter believed they couldn’t win the race, why bother running?

It’s the thrill of the chase. It’s beautiful for very fact that it’s fleeting, in your decision or death. But I cherish that it is, now.

I’m still not sure what “love” is, but when I press my forehead against hers, I’ll say it anyways.

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