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.
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?
I resigned from my job. After 5 months. The environment was too small for me. Not in a “bad” way, but in a they’re tryna put me in a box and don’t they know I’m claustrophobic kinda way.
The meetings weren’t wasting my time—I was. I had been squandering the opportunity to love, to connect, to lead.
Do I have to reach the limit to be enough? The answer came back swift and clear: No. Let it be what it is. Trust that it is good. Trust that what is is enough.
I do not call it love when someone I’m dating neglects me. So why would I call it love when I neglect myself? Neglect is not love—not when it comes from others, and not when it comes from you.
This is why we keep losing ourselves in love: because we search for something outside of us that can only be found within. The more I love myself, the more I experience God. And the more I experience God, the more I experience heaven on Earth.
I’ve been torn down, misused and abused for long enough and it wasn’t until I began to change my words and speak lovingly to myself that I began to live so different. I’ve seen for myself the power of words. The power of love!
Endurance isn’t passive. It’s active. It’s faith in motion. It’s knowing that even when I was failing chemistry exams, even when I doubted my ability, even when I thought I wasn’t smart enough—God already knew I would make it. And I did. Not because I was the strongest or the fastest, but because I refused to quit.