What Love Actually Is: A Meditation on Presence, Grief, and Totality
Love is the clanging of cymbals when there is none—loud in absence and full in its presence. We don’t get to dictate love. This isn’t a movie we direct.
Love is the clanging of cymbals when there is none—loud in absence and full in its presence. We don’t get to dictate love. This isn’t a movie we direct.
Hair falls from my head like leaves fall off trees and petals fall off flowers. Shedding—letting go—one of the most natural parts of nature.
Have you felt love? Do you know her warm touch and her warm embrace? The nourishment you feel when it fills your belly? There is no love like Divine Love.
I decided that surely love—God herself!—lowkey, highkey?!— most definitely is autistic! Because hooow could she be so literal and giving and generous and unintentionally (?) but actively hiiiiiiilarious?
There’s no need to let go of the past or the future because I hold it all now. The DNA of my ancestors still course within me. Closer to me than I am to myself. In this moment, my future is made.
God is love — and God created us in love, by love, for love. Compare me to love and love alone! Love doesn’t compete or compare, she simply EXISTS.
Don’t keep love hidden like you do the numbers of dollars in your bank account. No! Share love like immigrants share food, trees share oxygen, and the sun shares her rays. ♡
Love is in the willingness. It’s the courage that says, ‘I can do this thing I’ve never done before.’ Love is in the readiness. It’s the courage that says, ‘I can learn the thing I’ve never been taught.’
Uncle Ralph died at 67—retirement age. I used to think, ‘I can’t wait to move abroad when I retire.’ Now I know: I can’t afford to wait to live. I don’t want anyone to learn who I am at my funeral. I want to be known now.”
I’m leaving the U.S. Not to flee, but to free. Freedom isn’t free. It’s costing me something—the familiar, the known.
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