Love v. 2

August 12, 2011 § Leave a comment

Only writing will make you a writer.

(therefore?)

Only loving will keep you loved.

Sometimes it all seems so certain that I could sign on the dotted line today. Yes. This is it, right now, here forever.

Then I start to doubt and it really is a struggle to convince myself that loving the uncertainties is not only possible but desirable. I can’t even guarantee how I will stay with this. So there’s certainly no guarantees about anyone else. The thought of loving someone so ferociously, like I’m not afraid of being hurt or let down by them, whether it be myself or another, seems almost too large a task at times.

But, as they say: love, love is a verb. 

Love is not one thing, that consist of rainbows and puppies from the moment you take the decision to be in love until the day you die. It is doing, it is work. Whoever you apply it to (and right now, the work of loving another and loving yourself seem intertwined and of inextricable importance to me), it is constant.

More and more, I realise it’s the showing up that makes anything happen. Just decided to do this one thing now. Be kind now. Be disciplined now. Work had now. Rest now. Just now.

Suddenly, you write. Often. It becomes something you do.

Suddenly, you love. Often. It doesn’t mean you don’t doubt, but it means all the more because you do.

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