Fool for Love

to some, love looks foolish. Others envy what they assume love to be; they only see the sparkles in the eyes when gazes lock but not the struggle of holding on in dire times of desert hearts. Love IS FOOLISH~ we must become the fool, utterly abased at times to fully love. Love like Christ loves. Love that displays sacrifice is at times painful and does not always make us feel good.
It can be surgery, and surgery hurts. The surgery also heals. We lay our hearts splayed open for our lovers to examine and we let them have their way. Some play at love, others push up their sleeves and get their hands pulpy in the sometimes dirty labor of true love. This does not sound flowery so we turn our heads away and close our eyes to this unpleasant factor, favoring the romanticized view of love like the screen portrays: it is false. It is only a mere glimpse into a mirror of what love is supposed to look like in its fullness.. love can be ever so messy. Ever so complicated. Ever full of process and evolving humanity and getting down into the trenches and if you’re not willing to at times be the slave for your love then you may not be ready for it. Here’s a secret I’ve learned though: NO ONE IS EVER READY BEFORE THEY FALL IN LOVE.
Lovers are MADE. They are sculpted and formed by the very force of DOING and choosing and shattering into a zillion tiny pieces before your lover’s eyes, humiliated and thirsty and with all of your weaknesses exposed in their sight, letting them see you as you may be: a mess of emotions, raw insecurities and a big salty lake of tears then letting them wrap their arms around you in the warmest embrace you’ll ever feel because they’ve seen you true and real and still remained to press into LOVE. In that moment you feel that encompassing embrace is all you need. Those arms, holding, bracing, ANCHORING. In the dark of the night when nothing seems to make any sense at all, but you reach out and find that warm, loving hand that fits yours perfectly, it all seems okay. You can breathe in that moment and KNOW, you are loved.
When a lover has left, whether temporarily or jumped ship in the midst of the storm, that space they formed remains, like the imprint a footstep leaves in wet concrete or the concave your weight leaves in a plush couch cushion, and we feel the devastating depth of loss. It can feel like a death even if it’s not. That sting of betrayal or rejection, real or imagined, cuts us to our core.
We all want to be loved... but do we know what it means to really love and be loved? Do we count the cost? No matter, we plunge into love because it is the fabric of life. To love is to live. Or to die, right? Love kills so many things in us. It can be good death, or terrible loss of who we are. Love should free us to be who we truly are, not cage us and exterminate our souls. It should not imprison us but liberate us. Though we lose some things, that loss should not be the loss of our selves and our essence. It should hold us up to the flame and draw out the inner perfumes trapped so long therein. Love can burn, but ultimately it should bring out the beauty hidden, not cause us to cease to exist.
Redefined, remade, reconstructed but not forgotten in the shadows of another person’s dreams. Dreams should be shared and then amplified, not diminished.
When we are seen so intimately, so closely, with nude face exposed to the magnified gaze of a lover, it instinctively causes us to want to withdraw and flee. But when we STAY, and the eyes grow tender with empathy, which we hope will happen, this is where the truth begins. To know and be fully known. Oh my heart... if you find a soul who loves you like this, you’ve found the very meaning of life.


A little poem:
I’ve been a ball of wax melted into a puddle in your road
I’ve stood atop the glorious green hill with the anthem of jubilation on my lips
Because of you
But I’ve never loved completely until I saw my reflection in your eyes
The truth of who I am defined by your view of me
It’s not enough to say you complete me because that is selfishness
I was complete and so you were as well
Love is the joining force that crashes one whole soul into another and explodes into
A world of their own
Something spectacular out of nothing. Out of dust.
Mud-formed and luscious
Flesh upon flesh we meld
Yet remain our truest shape.
Your fire lit my flame and the forest illuminated with light
Nothing was burned, all was exposed.

Annie Chabot