Isn't it funny, the word "love"? I find its ambiguity something to ponder. I have loved, lost, loved again, lost again and remain loving. Yet I find this word cannot define anything that I describe. It doesn't define how I feel about my life, nor my children and parents. It certainly didn't define my relationships. Instead, love was obfuscated by immorality, cultural clashes, blindness, anger, betrayal, pride, happiness, joy and sorrow. How? We perceive a word to be something it isn't. We make the definition, and we can built it or tear it apart. Our realities are based in our social meanings.
I saw a boy. He was searching for something he lost. He tried hard, but in the end, realized that he would not succeed. He failed. I was there. He asked me why he failed. I told him he hadn't failed at all, that his experience in trying, was a success. I didn't know him, we were strangers. Yet in a strange way, I loved him. I loved what he tried to do, that he thought he failed, and that he went home (or wherever) thinking about what he found. Because he DID find something. Himself.
Why pretend that the moment wasn't full of love? Sometimes we protect ourselves too much, and in fact, we lose ourselves in the process of this. We are people that hate quite a bit, and rarely enjoy the benefits of what we call failure. I have to say that I love to fail, because by doing so, I learn. And I can get back up from the ground and do what I need to do. And I do it out of this strange word called love. Love of what, you may ask? Myself? No. There is no "what", nor thing, nor person, nor place. This love, this love is for the unknown. For what might be, could be, may be, someday. That boy I saw - he was Someday, Sometime, Somewhere.
Opposite of love is the well defined word of hate. Interesting how we know what hate is very well indeed, yet still strive to understand love. Perhaps this is because it is easier to hate, then to confront what we don't understand or know. We bleed. We have bled before. And we will bleed again. We do this to define ourselves, and in fact, is done out of hate. The funny thing is, that hate begets hate. The more we hate, those around us seem to hate, we go to war because we hate, we get angry because we hate. We lose more and more blood due to hate than any other emotion.
Yet knowing this doesn't stop this. Its as if we think the Universe owes us something. IT should love us, and not treat us this way. Yet we treat the Universe this way by continuing the pointing of fingers rather than be accountable for our own emotions. WHY? or WHY ME? is always asked. Why not seems to be the favored answer. We rely on our goodness to save us, but refuse to save ourselves by being good.
For the first time in my life, I have come to realize that hate can teach us powerful lessons, if we are willing to let go and understand them. That is the hardest part, right? So I am trying, because I am not one to just sit back and blame someone else for this rage I have towards some people in my life. The rage I feel is my problem. Not theirs. My family doesn't agree with this, but I know that the truth is knocking on my door - if I would answer it. If I answer it, I'm sure I will see the mirror in the hallway, and I'm not so sure I want to see the reflection. But I know. And it is time.
Time is another funny word, isn't it? We have no idea what it really is. Our perception of time is the Gregorian calendar, and I'm pretty darn sure that this was obsolete many moons ago. If quantum physics is correct, and we are Atlantis, then I guess we will be finding out how badly our perceptions are in regards to this concept.
Or will we? Maybe we will be swept by the sea, in a storm of love and hate.
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