Love is such a beautiful and terrible thing. It lacks structure and reason. It has the power to create and obliterate. Humans crave and chase its warmth and recoil and run from its burn.
Yes, I know love that is honest and true and real is all the good stuff – not perfect, but not dark, cruel, and hurtful. But humans are… human. We’re a messy lot of damaged, scarred, fallible beings navigating life with inherited patterns, societal expectations, with challenges and demons of brain chemistry. Most of us, trying to do our best, working on ourselves, yet struggling and reacting from those damaged places.
Try as we might, ‘doing’ love, like doing life, can be such a slog through the morass of emotions. We want love, but we’re afraid of being hurt. We love someone who’s not in the same place we’re at. We don’t love ourselves, so we settle, or deny, or give up. We limit our scope of possibility believing that this is as good as it gets, or we fear living a single life, so we don’t move on or let go to what isn’t working.
Why are we so myopic about the possibilities of love? Of finding and manifesting real love? Why can’t we let go of an unfulfilling present, for the wild possibility of future love?
It’s taking me a while, much longer than I want to admit, but I feel that I’m closing in on letting go of hope of a particular lost love that had a tiny new spark. I picked up the end of a thread of an idea. I started tugging and I followed it as it unraveled, slowly, patiently waiting for me to catch up and catch on to what has been so apparent for so long. This isn’t meant for you.
Whooo… just typing that I feel empowered, but also a bit weakened, like when an athlete gives it all she has and ‘leaves it all on the field’. I’ve given so much to it and while I could give more, honestly, it’s not in my best interest. For once, I’m considering what’s best for me here and now. It feels like I need a little more time for my heart to agree with what my head is saying, but I’m a lot closer today than I was just this morning.