I tell ya, the time change has my circadian rhythm all shot to hell. I'm not a good sleeper anyway, but this is ridiculous. I don't like waking up and feeling like I need a nap.
I went walking in the rain yesterday afternoon. I loved it. Really, I did! It was beautiful and peaceful. Besides that, it smells so doggone good around here when it rains. Everything is lush and verdant and hollering, "Life!"
As I walked, I thought about the men in my life. I thought about unconditional love. I love easily; I give freely. I thought about how few people (especially the men I love) truly understand it, truly understand that it's what I'm all about. It's about loving a person enough to allow them to stay or leave; it's about allowing another to be exactly who they need to be, even if that comes with a goodbye. It doesn't come with expectations and requirements. Because of that, unconditional love doesn't care if it's unrequited. It is what it is; it's just there. It's about open hearts and doors. It's about embracing the tough stuff while remembering the laughter, and judging neither. It's not about a blending and blurring of the boundaries of a soul; it's about individuality.
for your smile is a prayer that prays for love
and your heart is a kite that longs to fly
allelujah here I am
let’s cut the strings tonight
~Fairground Attraction, Allelujuah
I've always had trouble with people referring to their mates as "my better half." Does being in a relationship, being in love, turn us into 50% of something? What a sad notion. That means when the other is gone, we are only half of something that is no longer? This is why I maintain that each person needs to bring 100% to the table. Do you invite someone over and just serve bread for dinner? No, you make an entree, a salad, a vegetable, a starch. You present something that's entirely in balance. There is no loving another without self love. Because, by my very definition of unconditional love, I have to give my self the freedom to be exactly who I am.
While I wholly believe in telling people that I love them, I often find that declaring such sends them running for the hills. It vexes me. My love isn't meant to frighten, or to scare people off. How can that be? It isn't meant to make them feel as if they owe me something for being loved. It just is. To know that we are loved should feel as unequivocally good as walking in a soft Spring rain. Let it be.
I walked alone in the rain,
hit my face -
a kiss from you,
and before long
I was dancing
to an unnamed tune -
to music I hear
only in your embrace.
smile wistfully at me,
as I pass them -
spattering life on their cuffs,
and wish they knew your song.