bind

If the Einsteins of this world are to be believed, the experience of love is the same as that of eating chocolate:

the same neural pathways, the same neurotransmitters, the same chemical response.

In other words, they’re the same banana.

I’m certainly no Einstein but I’m sure it’s more than that. It has to be.

Love is more than just passion; more than just a feeling. It has the capacity to enlarge the lover and, forgive me Mr. Webster, the lovee in ways previously unimaginable.

In friendship, in romance, in the family, love is the tie that binds. Without love, nothing has meaning.

By loving, we find meaning in living.

Perhaps, love is the meaning.

but when is loving truly loving?

They say loving is a decision we make everyday. It is an act both of the mind and the will.

Love is one of the few things in life that cannot be forced. But like most things, can be learned.

It’s a lot of things; an amalgamation of sorts.

a collection of things said and unsaid.

of gestures and of intentions.

a discernment.

It is sacrifice. It is selflessness.

It cannot be quantified.

And even attempts to qualify it always fall short of what the person experiences in the moment of loving; in the moment of living.

Love enables.

Through love, each person grows.

Through loving, the mysteries of the self and of others are unraveled.

Love is a journey taken by the brave towards the unknown.

Love is an openness; a willingness to reveal the self as inherent in the act of loving.

It is a stand, a conviction to risk the self through the process.

Fr. Mananzan, SJ, a canon lawyer, used to say:

“Revealing one’s self is scary, but a lifetime of shallow relationships is scarier.”

’tis true.

Have a great day!

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