Love grows in the mud.
It doesn't strike like a lightening bolt, and it doesn't arrive quickly. Love gets stuck and frees itself again.
Love isn't static. It's more like an EKG if you are constant. Sometimes love is like the seismograph of our earthquaking existence.
Like the lotus flower, love roots down and stays anchored in the mire, and yet, it needs the sunlight on its face.
Love doesn't rush, and it isn't what you think much of the time. It's more difficult, more complex. It requires more endurance and patience than previously thought.
Thich Nhat Hanh, in his poem Please Call Me By My True Names, said: "Please call me by my true names, so I can hear all my cries and laughter at once, so I can see that my joy and pain are one. Please call me by my true names, so I can wake up and the door of my heart could be left open, the door of compassion."
Maybe love is a little more like that.
I always thought I would come to a clearing in my life...a place where few difficult things would happen, and there would be space to just love and be loved. A place full of years where linear improvement occurred based on our efforts and truest desires.
Time has proven that life is always this and always that. It is always the roots in the mud and the sun shining on our faces. It is the serendipitous flow and the chaos. The clear and, then suddenly, murky water.
We are always living in the duality.
Sure of one thing, love needs to be a verb, an action, a decision, and loving words that don't deliver are empty.
It's good to think about what Love is.
This week, let's make love a verb. Among the many loving actions you already carry out each day, let's do one intentionally loving thing for someone. Take some time to think about exactly what you will do and how to make it special. Then really do it. Our love makes a difference.
Have something you want to say? We want to hear from yoU in the comment section below.
This blog post is lovingly dedicated to Gary Bish and Bunny -- two special beings who passed on this month. We send you light and love dear ones.
(Written by Jane Hart, copyright 2015)