Dig in to worship of all things loving. I’m a hyper proponent for celebrating the superpowers of love every day. I know we’ve just rubbed elbows with another Valentine’s day. To some of you, it might have merely been a Sunday, a typical weekender fun day, or a minor twitch of hours easily passed by. But, I kinda needed to shout about it a little bit more. Maybe, (ok, especially), because I lost about three and a half days cooped up indoors with the horizontal horror of a migraine. Inconveniently mixed with praying way too much to the porcelain gods when I deduced the unfriendly culprit was food-poisoning from a preferred freshie of mine (aka batch of hand-plucked lemons soaking in refrigerated cool water) had taken the not-so-fresh-any-longer turn upon my innards. There’s nothing like a grand travesty to remind one it’s yummy to be loved.
Being on the lookout for love for decades has tested many of my nerves. The “Why not me?” nerve is the infamous frontrunner. Your standard “What am I missing?” quizzical nerve has well surpassed my teens since I’m pushing the ol’ fifties now. Then, the vast arena of “Right place wrong time?” space-travel-continuum nerves rounds out the gossip of people outside of my own internal prattle. Where in the wide world has my phantom honey-bun hidden? The beloved “babe” to whom my hot embers have hoped to be stoked with a betrothal. Each year I figured playing it sweetly would attract similarly kind partners who cared deeply for me. Note to selves, your picker can be far from your personality if you’re apt to be sidetracked with the wrong views of sanity. It’s also boomeranged a bevy of a-ha’s. That most memorable lightbulb illuminating the price of loyal love.
Enjoying love begins with finding it. Any who simply won’t do. Which is precisely where I first located a stranded cache of it. All the ricocheting was suffocating the productive passionist in me. I was expending energy searching instead of fulfilling myself. The minute I remembered that I was the basics I could learn to clobber the path with a different set of expletives. It’s where “F*CK’s” become “F*CK YEAH’s” and so forth with your popular favs. The attention to a steamiest self continually sorts anyone to anything you’ll ever aim to love with improved breezy ease. The quantity of our interchange from choosing that we’re without to believing we’re blessed is quite key. It’s a home-dolloped dessert that I deserve and didn’t see coming. Whenever we fit the love of ourselves onto the primary platter we’re already halfway to receiving beyond our wildest dreams.
For me, at the core of this heart, I’ve recently found that it’s less about the actual marriage. The want bears qualities some think declarations compile. Yet, therein, is never a securely satisfied truth. However, it’s not the contract, nor the vows in front of any other. It falls purely with the scrumptious expanse that love is reputed to be. The aspect I’ve toured minus is devotional consistency. The eternal sharing. That a person may choose to walk these sunrises and sunsets by my side faithfully. That I won’t tire of me solo all the same. What I’ve looked for exists. I wondrously watch couples who courageously inspire me. I follow spirited singles who cheerlead me in droves. They’re all shapes and sizes. They fit any mold and no molds. I adore scrutinizing the mastery of what occurs when loving myself an identical amount to those infectious instances that I let others shower me with love. Feeding me finely or flattering my freedom. Unprejudiced, true love incorruptibly is. It shows up victorious. It keeps working on vanquishing. It will always depart undefeated.
Hence, I’ve compiled copious nuggets of emotional nutrition. One artful tactic suggests that everything you’ve ever thought was relevant it’s time to flip as irrelevant. Meaning, accepting the power that we’re all right where we should be. Another pocket of therapeutic wisdom presented the gist to consider that mating isn’t necessarily geared at mushy harmonies. Perhaps, possibilities form best when we realize we bring percentages of full-tilt to the table. Ponder, if they’ve maxed the sarcasm, as you retain utmost sexy or if you’re all the comedy while he’s all the tech your union ever ought to be? Because truly loving thyself supports all the shiny sparkly dancing in the rain or snow, holding hands beneath blankets of stars, kissing one another’s scars, or every silly second of undermining, side-swiping, oops, whoops, whacked walloping ringers of wreckage that cause momentary lapses of reason. We’re worth it.
Go get ’em, tiger! Mwah~Meow.