Keep in mind, love does not come without anger.
Love does not come without troubled times.
We go through trials. We argue.
We fight and we complain.
And the world, I swear, this is such a random, crazy place. The way we are, the way things happen, the way we separate from each other and fall back into place somehow—I tell you it’s all crazy.
I swear it is.
We spin around here on Project Earth and find ourselves, in full circle to be exactly where we’re supposed to be.
Some call this cosmic, some call this fate, and some say this is all just consequence.
Know what I say?
I say this world is a random, crazy place.
And now it’s me, early morning, tired and wishing I was someplace else. But yet I am here, of course, exactly where I am supposed to be.
Then again . . . where else would I be?
I have come to the conclusion that we are all inherently and internally crazy. We are all crazy in our own perfect little way, which is not to suggest that crazy is a bad thing.
At least, not as I see it.
I cannot say why or how or if I know for certain.
I can only say that I know my love is real.
I know my love is real because
I feel it.
It lives and breathes. It feels and it weeps.
My love is a laugh that I could not live without.
It’s a soft touch.
My love is the feel I get when I hear a name and I realize,
at last, I know I’m not alone.
Imagine yourself sitting comfortably. Imagine yourself away from all of your stressors. You are far from the anxieties that cause concern.
Imagine yourself sitting on a shoreline where the waves move in quietly. The sound of the waves is the sound of Mother Earth breathing.
When the waves come in, she inhales.
When she exhales, the waves return out into sea.
I was never
sure what love is or if love could be defined or be distinguished by one true definition.
All I know is that as I’ve grown, so has my definition of what love is or what
love should be.
never the same. It changes and evolves.
Love expands and contracts. It has peaks and valleys, good times and bad. Love
does not come without mistake or flaw or pain.
A man threw a stone inside his glass house yesterday.
He stood around for hours, wondering where the draft came from.
But me . . .
I applauded his abilities to make matters worse.
I laugh because we live in a world of pots and kettles. Everyone points. Everyone wants someone to blame.
And why not blame someone else, right?
I mean, why be accountable (If you can void it) am I right?