Love is a peculiar thing.
We do not, perhaps, love sanely, or rationally, or intelligently; certainly we do not love wisely.
We meet someone, when all the switches in us are ready for love, and the switches close, and bam.
We’re in love.
And the person we love is not the person we’re seeing in front of us; what we see is an image of the real self cast imperfectly on the waters.
And those who love only the image before us; worse, perhaps the image that this image projects in our head– that is hell.
Because people are alive.
People are protean.
And the person we see is not the true person beneath.
It’s… a lie? A deception?
Perhaps an illusion.
So we have commit ourselves to loving the person beneath the facade that we see, this stranger that we don’t know. And sometimes the person we see there is entirely not who we expect to see.
And it’s… a surprise, really.
But while we are not always free to not love, we can still choose to love.
And you have to love people for who they are.
For who they choose to be
and all the potential that you see that they could become, in the flash of their eyes
and the edges of the smile
in the way that they look at you
and look away
And you find they are not the person you thought they were.
(That’s ok.
You’re probably not as great as they thought you were either.)
They live in their world, and you live in yours, and your lives intersect where your dream of the world is the same as the dream of theirs.
So you learn to love all of the person you know: you love the parts that you like, and you love the parts that you wouldn’t accept in anyone else, because they’re also part of the person, and you learn, slowly, to love every part of the other person, not because you’re soft, not because you’re accepting the hand the universe dealt you…
But because you love.
We do not fall in love.
We throw ourselves headfirst into love, facefirst into a universe of pain and suffering and joy, and we do this willingly.
And if you can do this once, upon seeing a single facet of the person we love, can’t we do it again
and again
and again
until you learn to accept everything that the universe throws at you in the way of surprises?
Can’t you do it until you have applied every last ounce of your will in choosing to love?
And you can enter the dream of the one you love, and dream it with them, and choose to stay there with them until the end of days, and match every facet of their lives, face for face, persona for persona, love for love. And to choose to do it over and over again, because the worst hell with them is better than a world without them.
Let’s go.
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