A talk with George

I believe in love. 

But I don't believe in the minuteness that it exists for me from one person. 

One soul mate.

Impossible. 

Love manifests in constant forms ever changing and revealing itself in unexpected encounters and brief interludes. 

Belief in one soul mate discredits all the love I've felt for every lost boy. 

And if each of those loves was not thee love is that supposed to make each one less meaningful?

Last night I looked into the eyes of a stranger and my heart soured. 

The intensity of shifting your eyes to catch someone looking into you, with the kind of intensity some people go their whole life without expressing. 

It's transcendent. 

The belief I held onto so fervently with such determination was that love never gives up. 

I've loved tirelessly and relentlessly. 

With the stubbornness of a child. 

But love, the kind of love I want to possess, should never fight to the point of blood. 

If love doesn't want to receive than it should float on to someone more needing of it. 

We all of us need love in our own distorted ways. 

And I convinced myself the love I carried was somehow mistaken because it didn't manifest in the things I've been told love should. 

But the love I carry tucked neatly in every pocket is something new entirely:

A boy told me a story about a couple. The man and the woman each having horrible days. The man, seeking comfort, needed to see the woman, to counter the discouragement of the day. The woman, seeking solace, needed to be alone to process and dispel the energy of her day. So the boy telling the story asked, So what is the loving thing to do?

And my thoughts went to the needs of the one who needed solace. 

Though I would most assuredly be the same as the man who needed comfort. 

And since most often what we need is in direct conflict with what others need how do we balance love with contentment?

Desire and acceptance?

How can one person be all things simultaneously for both themselves and their partner?

And then I thought of my tribe. 

And how much easier it is to accept the absence of one when there is another there instead. 

And having so much love constantly ebbing and souring through the changing winds makes all of it surprisingly simple.

Love. 

Freely. 

Abundantly. 

And when one is no longer present, continue.

With others. 

And should the first love desire the receipt of that love they will find their way back to you. 

Believe me. 

The love that must be shows itself on those late nights when you'd forgotten it was even lost.