When you climb into the eyes of another, when you share your soul with the ears of another, when you let yourself be consumed by another… or even unto yourself. This means love. I’m no definitive answer to – no do I know – all that is love, but I do know this means love. Love with self, love with nature, love with others, love with desire, love with connection.

There is a point in sharing when it becomes necessary to let go of inhibition and allow to flow forth from the depths of your soul what it is that needs to flow forth. You are the guide in this journey, you are the canoe floating down the river silently. You are the flag sitting atop the mountain triumphantly. You are the spark sitting in the fire, grasping for oxygen.

How do you recognize this moment?

I think the scary part for most is when we confuse – or feel the desire to separate – this feeling with lust.

To hug is not to sex. To stare deeply into the eyes of another is not to sex. To rest on the shoulder of another is not to sex. To explain feelings is not to sex. To share is not to sex.

To love is to never give up and to always give up at the same time.

In the history books, or religious books [most, probably not all], or classroom study guides, or mathematics books we don’t discuss this constant ebb and flow. Love has seemingly been hidden behind closed doors, under thick sheets with socks on, uncomfortably. This is love as a singular, as a taught concept and un-explored; even afraid to be explored.

Perhaps if you explore what love means to you, you might just find it’s a bit lovely too!

Further reading (and inspiration for this post) found on Elephant Journal.