The poets and the philosophers, lyricists and artists have immersed themselves in love light’s glow for centuries. Humans have an intrinsic desire to dissect, to study, to understand and ultimately demystify the spellbinding ambience of love, this most powerful muse. We seek to interpret the meaning with music and with words, with the paintbrush, with movement on the mat or on the stage, in the church or in nature.
But we can’t.
We can relate to the song or the poem, but the artist’s depiction will always fall short. Love will always remain a mystery. It is the riddle that cannot be solved – at least not in this earthly realm.
If you meditate on love, you might find that there’s no beginning. There’s no end. Love just is. It’s just there. Always.
We cannot summon love, nor can we wish it away. We tap in and acknowledge. At times love’s rush comes fast and hard, like when we feel the presence of God, when we first lay eyes on the baby, when we hug our grandparents, when we kiss our friend hello after a long separation, when we are blissed out and tangled in the arms of our lover.
We can drift far away from love’s light, we can hang out in the shadows, tune out and drown out love’s clarity with lots of static and outside noise. We can get busy and conceal love by choice, or by circumstance or by hardship.
To no avail, of course.
There’s no beginning. There’s no end. Love just is. It’s just there. Always.
wildwoodhomestead 