This Is Just to Say

Hotly debated and fiercely defended is the concept of love.

It is maligned and revered all at the same time.

Why are we so caught up by it?

It makes our fingers tingle and our legs ache.

Sometimes we can't eat or sleep.

We cry when it ends and we cry when we realize it's so so good.

Poets find it fascinating and cannot leave it alone.

It seems that everyone longs for it though few ever find it.

"I'm in love."

"I hate love."

"I believe in love though I fear its consequences."

"You're crazy!"

I just wanted to say a little bit this morning about the fact that love is one of the more controversial factors of life. Who, where, when, why and how all apply. And we are rarely able to put any of these into words. To be sure, we all love being loved and sometimes it's the only reason we end up loving the other. The BSHB/G says I'm in love with falling in love. And sometimes I think that's true. But not just love. I am in love with lots of things. It's just that love is a more dangerous one. It breaks your heart. There's a Drive-By Truckers song that says "The very nature of love is to grieve when it's over." And it will end. Maybe it won't end until you die, but it will. We know this much about it. Does that mean we should avoid it?

How about approaching love like any other hedonistic experience? Embrace the beauty while it's there. Enjoy that rush in the pulse and the flutter in the belly. Do it right. Passionately. Take it in. All of it. Then, when it's over, cry a little, smile at what you had, hope for its encore, smoke a cigarette, write a poem, take a walk and get ready to do it all over again.

Love is not to be avoided. Just do it knowing that it is as fleeting as the winter cold and the summer heat: certain to fade and sure to return.