Love.

Love has almost destroyed me recently.

I have had to gather my strength up again to beat that sinking feeling that comes from losing or being rejected by a person you felt so deeply for and fell so quickly for. The feelings of a tentative uncertainty about whether I want to put myself through this destruction again have permeated my being for a while, and now I say, of course I will because that which destroys also creates.

I have recently moved away from the Buddhafield community in Devon to find myself, by choice, living in Bristol. This move signifies the start of a independent continuation of my life, something which I have not fully had for almost all my 20’s. I can feel myself starting to unfurl in a way that I have never had a chance to before, testing the waters, learning how to swim again. I have bought with me is a mess, cluster of experiences of love all of which fed me in varying degrees of good and bad. All the bits where I felt like a fool, all the bits where I thought I understood something but really didn’t, all the beautiful encounters, moments of sharing I have woven into a shawl to keep me warm; for the days have swung between being long and lonely to being full and connected.

It has been important for me to learn not to reject all it in hatred for these people but to take it all up and be lifted by what I have been given by them all. By bundling up all these lessons I have felt safely and carefully held by the sheer capacity that people, including myself, have to throw themselves wide open for someone to either accept or to cast aside and the depth of the emotion that comes with that. I have begun to find it magical again and want to spread that magic.

I have noticed so much how my mind has tired to eat itself with stories when it comes to the attachments that falling in love bring with it. I have watched the stories spiralling more and more out of my control. Without that precious truthful communication it is a futile to keep imagining what might have gone wrong, why was I not good enough, why is that other person better then me.. and unless that courage is there to actually ask for answers to these questions then the stories will continue to dominant. Even so if you do ask sometimes that basic respect to respond is missing, relying on someone to hold the same values of honesty as you have.

So why is there so much weight put on that phrase of ‘I love you?’ Why can’t it just be a simple statement of fact that in that particular moment in time there is a lot of love spilling from my pores that is, at that same moment directed at the person I am facing and that it’ll probably remain for a while. That doesn’t mean that I have trapped you or want you to stay by my side forever and always (the ‘forever and always’ is definitely one of the biggest stories that I have had to deeply understand and let go of). Love is an emotion that provides me with a brightness and a by saying it out loud to someone else I hope that it will provide them with a brightness also.

So from something destroying my faith in love I feel like I have travelled in a circle and have been inspired again by those simple gestures that I see everywhere and will tell the world today and everyday that I love.