For What They Are

More about love–but wait, it’s all about love, isn’t it, so more about that which is everything. You may tell me it’s not all about love, and you might call me a romantic, but it’s got to all be about love or it’s no fun at all.

valentinesday

So let’s talk more about love, about dirty, messy love (and I mean that in the cleanest way possible.)

More about love, that which wraps us up in light, more light than we’ve ever seen; that which breaks our hearts, and I don’t mean in the sad way, but in the way that happens when you must allow your insides to shatter and be put back together by a love that is bigger than you can stand. I do not mean that to say that I am in love, except that I do–I am in love and it is in me.

I’m telling you this because I had an epiphany, and I have a feeling I’ve experienced this revelation before, but you know–sometimes it takes more than once. Though the sun rises every morning, we sometimes forget it is there after two weeks of rain, and it must win our trust back again; and so it goes: we must be taught again and again. So more about love, and it is this: It is so big; it is big, and it can be messy.

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It is messy, I think, because it is so all-consuming. Because I love you, but I love me, too. Because I want to love more when I love less, and vice versa. Because I love things that don’t love me back, like the trees, but somehow, that fills me up, too. Because I love and I love and I love and we love, and we cannot stop, even when goodbyes loom, even when goodbyes mean hellos to dreams come true. Because despite all my darkness, I am called lovely–I am loved. So I love, too, in deep, full, unkempt ways.

I’m sorry if you thought this was a romance story, but then again, I guess it is. It’s a love story about the people with whom I’ve shared the past four years, those who are making plans like me, paths that are different than mine. It’s a love story about the sidewalks I’ve been strutting down for some time now, those which will seem the same and different just months from tonight. It’s a love story about the adventure I’ve had, which was so much; it’s a love story about the one I’m about to begin, which I’m sure will be deep, full, and unkempt. It’s about looking around and seeing it, about being unsure how to love it any more than I do, and yet feeling the need to cram more inside to take with me. And this love I have for these people and places and this sky, it’s not that pink stuff that flits around on the Hallmark card aisle, though don’t get me wrong–I love that stuff. No, this is the sort of stuff that gets deep in your bones, that becomes part of your breathing and eating and laughing and snorting. It’s the kind of stuff you feel so strongly that you ache within in all the best ways, the kind that makes you want to stand still for just a few minutes so that you can drink it in more, but it’s too much.

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And it’s just enough.

“We love the things we love for what they are.”

–Robert Frost

I graduate in a month and some change. Over the next few weeks, I’d like to write some posts about how this place and its people–mostly its people–have impacted me. Spoiler alert: I love this place. I really love its people. This blog has most always been a space to document what it’s like to love it here, even when loving it required me to get my hands dirty. I hope you’ll join me as I walk through saying goodbye, and as I step into the next adventure.

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