I Thought I Was in Love, Until You Opened Your Mouth

     It's amazing to me the worlds our minds create when it comes to people and their character. Case and point: You can see a picture of beautiful person in a magazine and imagine that they sound like some sort of radio personality, with a sincere and solid, welcome hand shake, maybe even a hug if you're lucky, likes to go sailing, is a painter and a musician, tends to their garden and still has time to help foster children and feed homeless people downtown.

     Almost perfection. What an idea. What an image. Could we be in love with anything less?

     We have a hard time differentiating media adverts and its propaganda desires with our real heart's cries and hopes.

     I've been hearing people toss around the word love lately like it's going out of style. Not that I have a problem with the word love, it's just, when you use something without any sort of real thought or discernment it inevitably looses its weight and essence.

     Yes, I know that you know this already.

     But I've found recently, that I (and many of you) are not quite sure how to fall in love. We've been so enamored with the idea of love and the idea of certain people that we aren't quite sure how to let our guard down smoothly and safely.

     Don't look at me like I'm the only one.

     But there is no safe way of letting your guard down--either you do, or you don't.

     As we grow up and continue to do so, we are realizing that love is a lot more messy than one would first expect. But mostly, love is full of surprises. And that is one of my favorite characteristics of love. I am no longer drawn in by my own make-shift idea of a person, I am willing to become as real as possible in order for me to see the true person in front of me.

     So instead of me aimed and ready to judge the next possible suitor, I look intently into his eyes and listen closely between the lines. Perhaps you're not as stupid as I once thought. Perhaps I was simply impatient. No, I was right the first time.

     Nevertheless, I don't hold bitterness in my back pocket. Instead, I chuckle to myself. I think of this long and arduous love journey that has allowed me great freedom as a single woman and a great appreciator of romance, and I still hope against hope. I still believe that my one great earthly love is yet to be lived. I still believe, that I no longer have to hide. I still believe that I am beautiful. I still believe in falling...in love. And that still means something to me.

     Yes, everyday, I fall in love in different ways. Sometimes I wish it were for keeps, but then, someone opens there mouth completely, and then I'm glad it wasn't.

     The essence of love and the fight therein, brings us to a sweet humility. We long to taste the truth of everything making sense, all without our control. What rest that is for our weary and busy souls. No more climbing, no more pretending, no more striving. Just being.

     No longer practicing the art of acquiring love, but maintaining love. The fight is more like a dance. The music in true form, is time itself.

     Yes, one day, I will open my mouth, and he will get to sing into it..."Could you be loved...and be loved...and be loved...and be loved."