There’s a reason we celebrate love the way that we do - weddings and anniversaries and valentines and roses for no reason at all - because as much as we live in a world that honours independence, and the power of one, of going it alone and making a lot of things happen for yourself; none of us can truly deny the sheer joy and great relief it is to find for yourself another human being who’s willing to give you every part of them, forever, and to take every part of you as theirs. We all want to be understood and if that’s what love is, understanding, then the surest critic can’t dismantle the innate human desire to be fully known, and fully loved. Maybe marriages fail because we can’t hold on to our independence and our deep desire for an other both. We must decide. And for some, the decision is harder than once thought, the fear of losing yourself a simple byproduct of a culture that tells you to be dependent is to be weak and to be resilient is to always have an escape plan hatched that only you know about. But it isn’t true. It isn’t true. Love cannot operate in such hostile terrain, it can only ever be a shadow of itself in such foreign territory. Love is brave - to love another truly is a brave act, and a noble one, noble in the way that self serving and self seeking never could be. There's a lie going around that too many hearts are breaking over - how many more can it take? Before we all awake, to love as the ultimate letting go and getting; the most selfless and rewarding; the truest act; the noblest pursuit; the only stealer of breath, still-er of a beating heart. To be independent, in truth, is to be alone. When will they let us know it?
[Image: unkown]
