The Fear of Being Loved

"All You Need is Love." The Beatles sang it, the sages proselytize it and today you can simply purchase the saying on a wood block as decoration. I own one. I chant it, I believe it at my core and at the same time I am challenged by it. 

If love is all you need—all I need, then why does the prospect of it with another raise an eyebrow of disbelief, or have my heart drift behind the clouds of self-protection? Why is something that seems so profoundly simple and innate to our humanness become a struggle, a fear? These are the questions before me today. Good morning Lori.

Of course, I believe to know my own answer. Somehow writing it out becomes a process of working it out. I'm fairly certain it begins with the beginning, my grand entrance into the world. Held in the naive pairs of hands that carried me home, to nurture and love me the best way they knew how—in that moment.

From there, etched in stone, were definitions of love—their definitions. The stone ultimately rolled out into the world, down a few hills (at times mountains), taking little or no time to gather the moss of its own identity. The etchings of what was known of love carved deeper and deeper in definition. Tumbling down farther along the bumpy roads of life and further away from the divine truth of love. 

Until one day, and there have been more than one, the stone came to rest—to stillness. The etchings of love halted and hiding, peering out from behind the bent brim of experiences. Allowing for a more peaceful passage of time. Time and space for the moss to grow, nurture what defines its core and ponder the meaning of love. Time as healer, smoothing out the nicks of pain and shaking off the dusty-heart of a jarred journey. 

The etchings are scars trying on new definitions for love—challenging my mind's heart not to be afraid. To roll on, now with a softer surface and understanding.

Wishing for it to be simpler or I were more courageous about living into the mantra of love. I'm still working on it.