Does Love Exist?
I’m interested in love.
And no, I don’t just mean a one-nighter in a cheap hotel
Or the love you feel at a grave site after forty years of
What we called “commitment” and put in a tidy bottle called “marriage”
So we could tell ourselves that love was safe.
I’m not just interested in the expiration dates of temporary love
Or in the control of permanent love
I’m interested in love.
Because there is no center or outside of what “is” is. It’s all just there and it’s all the same before we give it names.
What I feel is larger and smaller than a blade of grass
A life sprung from the decay of life's change (death).
Because, to tell you the truth, I can’t tell you how many stars it took to make the bacteria in my hand or the number of galaxies in the universe or where it all "came from" or if that even makes sense...
But when I look in the night sky at great balls of fire, then back to my hand, and a kind of swelling fills my chest…
I don't know what else to call it. It's not God, exactly. So I call it love.
Love defined is not patient, it is urgent. It is not merely kind; it is bold. It envies because it wants to know it belongs, it boasts because it wants to know that it is worthy, it is proud because it is there, it is rude because it will not be denied by convention, and it seeks the full definition of selfhood because it strives to keep its source thriving and alive and unapologetic.
I didn’t say that love was aesthetic. Sometimes it’s roughly urgent, moving swiftly like a high-class rapid, sweeping everything in its path into oblivion. Sometimes it’s slow or even stagnant, covered with algae, sluggishly calm and peaceful. Sometimes it contains life, and sometimes it is death incarnate. Not all would call it beautiful. But love is what’s there and what belongs, whether it is highly regarded or not.
I know that “love” is maybe/probably a nice word that we invented;
A construct used to gain power over and
People who don’t know they are being manipulated
By people who don’t know they are being manipulaters.
But is that so wrong, I wonder?
Is it so wrong to tell the child “I love you” and gain its trust by
Implanting a small bit of yourself into them so you can
Is that so wrong?
What is evil?
I could call the world evil, but evil is destruction, and nothing is ever destroyed; it only changes. Evil doesn’t belong, and everything belongs. Evil is a fence that isn't there. So I call it love – constantly adjusting, belonging, unlimited love.
And when I look up in the sky, or at a blade of grass, or out my window, or at a sunset, or down the long, sun-filled, silent, concrete trail beside the smoothly flowing Trinity River, that word reminds me that I belong, that I’m alive, that every step I take is beautiful in its way, and that the smile on my face means everything because I am a function of everything and it means everything to me even though I don’t understand it.
Or because I don't understand it?
I could live like this.