Enlightenment and Nachos

It was explained rather poetically once as a child that the entire universe; every cell, atom, quark, and molecule was at one point in the same place. Love is the memory of being whole, of being one. This singular concepts defies literally every other principle of physics humans have every discovered since the realized that they might of killed off those young virgins a tad early since the sun rose anyways and began the long and arduous fight to get someone to explain how the priests were looking a little fatter after such a lean harvest.

If nothing else that means there was only one thing somewhere and it got lonely… so exploded? romantically speaking though that makes sense, doesn’t it? For me this always explained why love felt like gravity. Like something we are drawn A force of attraction between two bodies.

If you felt that was sexual, that tells me that you think love is.

Sometimes love is supportive, like a planet and its moon(s). Nearby but not colliding or getting in each others way. They can work together for a long time, supporting one another, but eventually one or both will go their own way and leave the other behind. Sometimes it happens suddenly and without warning. Like a foreign body or a unexpected change in trajectory. Celestial bodies twirling in a waltz composed by chaos and probability, only aware of those which have an affect on them. Like gravity, folding the space between to pull them closer toward one another they till they may collide. Some might simply go hurting past one another. Others can change our orbits, or spin us on our axis. Entire solar systems tugging across the seemingly empty space to drag so many coincidence closer together into a space they are more (or sometimes less) likely to happen. None of them are wrong for this any more than a bolder would be for rolling down a mountain and attempting to flatten an innocent bystander. Sometime even gravity can develop a crush on someone. To hold onto anything so delusional as eternity or forever is meant to be meaningful and endearing, and yet fail to capture how precious every moment is.

There is not wrong way to love. There are a million poor attempts at what we might allow ourselves to bravely call love; a million more trying to punish themselves for not waiting long enough; or failing to give up back when it wasn’t half your life. There is no wrong way to love… but that’s not for a lack of trying.

My grandmother was a wise woman. She told me there are four things you should never judge someone for as long as they weren’t hurting ANYONE:

• What a person has to do to put food on their table.
• What others chose to believe.
• What they have to do to make it through a day.
• Whom they chose to love.
  

None of those are easy. All of them are worth the effort if you can let go of fear long enough to love. Like learning to swim and your guardians have made you afraid to let go of the wall. You don’t learn to tread water, you drown. Love is like diving into the deep end on your first attempt before they finish blowing up the floaties. It should feel reckless and full of concern; never fear. It should try as hard as it can to take your breath away, while also making things seem easier. Once you learn how to orientate yourself you know how much air you don’t have to get to the surface, and the body tends to get in line and figures out the fastest way to get there on its own. None of this will -of course- produce any positive effect other than settling in panic. This is when you usually find the bottom. Its easier to figure out what to do. Push, try and wait just a little longer to let go of that bursting lungful of air that begs to cry out in pain (or delight, love really can be two fun.) Even the sun sets, so you learn to give it everything you got until its over. You swim until your tired, or the person watching you cant be bothered any longer. There is no lifeguard in love.