Sometimes it is exquisitely painful to love. We love those who do not love us back. We love those who are cutting into themselves, and they will not stop, and we cannot stop them bleeding. We love those who are gone from this earth.
Sometimes it is bountifully joyful to love. We love those who purr, who beam smiles back at us, or who we see growing and blossoming. We love all their intricate quirky details. We love to see how they love others.
Sometimes we tangle up our clean, freely offered love with our own desperate needs – to be seen, to be appreciated, to get something IN RETURN. This is not love. We are yearning for love, and we can find ways of answering this yearning, asking for what we need, more directly.
Sometimes we lose faith in love, as we see our efforts falling on deaf ears, on barren ground. We plant seeds, we water them every day, and nothing green breaches the skin of the earth.
We don’t see the roots. We don’t see that the ground may have been neglected for decades, for generations, and that we are bringing life to it, slowly, slowly.
How can we help? We must keep loving.