Love is infectious and multiplicative. Love is boundless, the more you give it away the more you have! Love is hidden under rocks and walking through rooms on two legs or four. Love is so much more powerful than despair or hatred or even indifference. Love makes everyone better and happier and healthier. We can only Love others if we truly Love ourselves and Love this moment. Are you breathing, if even with a little difficulty? Did you sleep, at least some, last night? Do you hear a dog barking over and over again; at least we know our ears work!
Love combats childhood obesity and poverty. Love probably even makes squeaky wheels squeak less, well, maybe not. Hatred and fear and other very non-loving things are powerful too; don’t get me wrong. But they are thankfully just temporary distractions. They wither under the relentless barrage of time and Love. Nothing meaningful or substantial can be built from these things. They never have been. No matter how scary or destructive the movement or idea, if it is rooted in non-Love it cannot last. This really seems true to me and it really gives me comfort.
Love is not a thing or a state. It cannot be bottled and stored for later or distributed during a natural disaster. Love is the connection, the action, the spending of time. Love is the currency and the vehicle and the goal and the method and the road. We just need to trust and safety-fall into it. It will always catch us.
The Olympics began last night. It is a time of Love and hope. A time of determination to unite in common-ness and to do so via Love. All the geopolitical muck is still there and will be waiting as an unwelcome guest when the torch passes to the next host. The only real way to combat that malaise is to Love. This may sound naïve or implausible, and maybe it is, but it really is the only hope, the only truth, the only path that has ever really borne fruit.
We can only accomplish things beyond our capabilities by disappearing into Love. Is Love the fundamental building block of existence? If we could break apart even the elementary particles like the numerous quarks, would we eventually be left with more or less Love here and there, like a dot matrix print out? If life were an old CRT television (continuing with the archaic technology terms), would the little pixels of color that we see if we get uncomfortably close to the screen be a variable pattern of Love density?
Who made Love? Or better, who didn’t, really? Is the big bang (and I still believe there must be infinite big-collapses that these partner with through all space-time) really just Love breathing in and out? Does anything else really exist? It is like a Chuck Close painting viewed from within the painting? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Obviously, it was Love!
Love. Love! Love? Love.
