Love Comes in Seconds

I have been writing about it for many years and I am beginning to believe it is not definable. It’s formless. My views and definitions and perspectives are constantly changing. I can’t catch it and place it into a framework.

So many different factors contribute to that we love and how we love. So much of this is tied to our narrative, where we are at in our lives, and what is important to us now, which might be rather different (and should be) from what was significant to us yesterday.

But I think love is a daily choice and after we choose to love, the intensity and colours of the love changes as though it lives in a kaleidoscope — which twists as we continue to love. It turns into this thing, that develops outside itself and becomes greater than its parts.

Showers us. Flows through us like breeze.

Love isn’t a constant.

And that is what makes love so amazing. Yet, so Tricky. It is formless and constantly changing. Sometimes, unpredictable. Assuming it is healthy love. If it is not, it becomes greater than its parts. It remains inside, trapped and limited. And the colors remain primary and still. However, it takes some time for love to grow and grow and become more than the people. Years. Many many years.

So in the meantime, how can you know? How can you know if love is love as you’re building?

I have learned that love comes in minutes.

This moment when she is chopping carrots and you catch her eye and slight smile and the world grows quiet. And there is a knowing.

This moment when he whispers something in your ear that you did not really hear but you feel his breath and it feels just like your favorite blanket.

This moment when you see her sleeping and she’s precious. Like a ceramic vase.

That moment once your eyes meet his without warninglock. And at that instant both people are completely nude. Trusting.

That moment following a fight when you return to each other, feeling secure that you can have conflicts.

This moment when you realize he put you and did not make it about him.

This moment after you orgasm and wish to be nowhere else.

This moment when you see him playing with a kid. And he forgets he is the adult.

This moment she chooses to support you even though she does not agree with your choices.

This moment he kisses you someplace you do not like to be kissed and you realize you enjoyed it.

This moment you wake up to the sensation of her sleeping face buried in the back of your neck. And you enjoy it there.

That moment he did not attempt to fix it but only chose to hold you.

This moment when you see her on a swing and want you knew her when she was younger.

That moment when you look at each other, knowing just how much shit you guys have gone through, the jealousy, the controller, the space, the drift, the hell and back, the couples counselling, the shift, the expansion, the rebirth, and still, together, deciding to appreciate each other.

This is the way we know love is still looming, catching those moments that remind us we are on the right path. Not every day. But there, buried and scattered like sparkling like gems on the side of a giant mountain.

And we must locate them by being open and possibly letting some shit go. By forgiving. By looking inward rather than above the fence, and working on our own triggers which give us blinders. As these moments are stone, breadcrumbs that tell us we’re on the right path as we continue to climb upward.

I wrote about moments since they’re underestimated. We love fast and do not see them. We’re always taking a look at the future and overlook them. And once we miss them, we could make conclusions we might regret. So know that love is NOT a continuous state of understanding and there’ll never be any guarantees. Love is a continuous process of discovery and unfolding. And during these moments, you may know that it’s there.

So long as these moments keep coming.

Unpredicted and naturally.

We can not force them.

We can only create space for them to occur.

And if they cease, either you’ve stopped.

Or he/she has ceased.

And the love that has been growing is no longer growing.

It’s currently inside a bottle.

And that’s no longer love.

That’s probably fear.

This post was initially published here and is republished with permission from the author.

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