18 September 2011

Love is messy.


A Gamble?

      I'm meditating on love lately. It comes in so many unexpected packages. In 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' and so many other romcoms, it looks a very specific way. It looks that way so often, I feel like we miss it when it actually shows up in our lives.
       Rufus Wainwright sings, "Love is a broken hallelujah.'
       What does that even look like today? Speaking from my own perspective, it seems to mean when one screwed up person begins to love another. Love has been painful to me often. I reflect now on the possibilities of it actually having been love.
        I offer a fay-style explanation.
        The lovely french language, and culture so similar to our own, makes no differentiation between love and sex. That is, seemingly, an American phenomenon.
        Love then, by these definitions, is all-encompassing, requiring our hearts, minds and bodies. Give any of these separately, or in combination, but not as a whole, and what you're experiencing ceases to be true love. Real love.
         When we step away from our messed-up-ness, and take a look at where God is on our compass, we step closer to understanding real love. Our former understanding of love be it American, or French, or lack thereof, is also required to understanding real love. It's one of the building blocks, it's foundational in a way. Not desirable, but foundational nonetheless.
        So, I feel rather emphatically that I have no need to apologize, or justify my former actions in pursuit of love.


END.


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