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?
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. ♡
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.
I woke up, drifting in and out of sleep. Between land of the living and land of the divine. And in my comings and goings, lines of prose wrote themselves.
In the dark, I hear her.
In the dark, she knows the parts of me I’ve hidden from myself.
In the dark, I begin to know myself more, too.
Do not worry because where you are, I AM, too. I AM—the God of I AM THAT I AM!– I AM in your past, and have already knitted it together for your beautiful future.