Now I’m not in a relationship right now, but I think that just makes me that much more aware:
Love is infinite intimacy, intimate vulnerability, infinite tenderness, infinite self-love.
It is intimacy because the boundaries between you and the other not because all sense of where you begin and where I end ceases, but because I know you, and where you are, and where I am, and the joy I feel with you, and that space we intersect, the lines can blur at times but we are still our distinct selves, still whole, but also quite clear halves.
Infinitely vulnerable; to see and let yourself be seen. To be so completely open, to give someone your heart in their hand. To give it away, simply, freely, completely, gratefully.
Tenderness with which you tend a wound lovingly, stroke a lock of hair away unthinkingly, gaze at the being before you in all their wonder, in all their humanness, in all their beauty and imperfection, and somehow what you feel contains all longing, hope, admiration
And infinitely self loving, self respecting, self caring. This is the magic ingredient I think. Because you put your heart in your hand not seeking to be crushed, but entrusting your precious self. Your tenderness comes from your own full cup of love, not seeking to be filled from some other source. It is a needless compassion you offer, a bounty that comes from your own rich harvest, not looking to another to be filled. And to allow you to be infinitely intimate because you cannot share with another without having a self. Without having those borders and boundaries, there couldn’t be such a rejoicing when the lines are blurred- there must be lines, there must be your respect for yourself, your awareness, your dignity. Though all worldly honor might be cast aside, your humility is true, born of knowing your own worth. Love is a fulfillment of yourself, not a denial. A change certainly, a loss of self in a way, but an inner strength that will remain, despite the obstacles, dspsite the flickering winds of passion, despite everything. You cannot truly love another without allowing yourself to feel your own love.
And love is what causes the ache in my chest somedays, the feeling of needing to be hugged, carressed, looking out the window not knowing who you are looking to see. Maybe knowing but not knowing at the same time. Love is being willing to make the experiment, to say yes to life, to go with the flow;
And love is the flow, that makes people get out of bed and go to work, so they can have spouses and children as much as any other reason. And love is a force that just topples you, that changes everything about your life, and though you are uqite autonomous, quite avialable to react, you don’t. It is a tidal wave you invite it, and know that you will never be the same.