The Beauty of Love

Love is a beautiful thing.  It’s inspiring to see the way that people treat each other, respond to each other.  To witness what they do for each other, the hardships and struggles that they endure, so that their love may continue to burn fiercely, or to simply brighten the other’s day, when they’re feeling down.  Love is not selfish, greedy, or impatient.  Acts of love strengthen the bonds between individuals, while demonstrating devotion.  True love is capable of persevering through any challenge, any obstacle, while still undergoing growth and change.  Yet, oftentimes relationships change in ways such that love takes on a new meaning and is expressed in different ways.  But then, was it really true love to begin with?  I thought that it was something solid, impenetrable, meant to last.

There are days when I miss being in love.  I love the beauty, excitement, and happiness that love brings into my life.  It feels as if my life has new meaning; a new passion has been incited.  I begin to see things in another light, appreciating he simple things in life just a little bit more.  That simplicity holds new meaning, as I experience it in different ways through the eyes of another.

Yet, love is a delicate balancing act between the self and the other, as both should receive equal priority.  Or perhaps, the self should remain a higher priority, since you are ultimately the one individual, who you can rely on to get you through life.  Only once you are able to truly love and accept yourself can you truly love and accept another and create a life together, while still being true to yourself. 

I feel that I have become wiser over the years, and ideally, more attuned to the ways of love, but such is an outsider’s perspective.  However, there are things that I must first do for myself.  I have much left to learn about myself, do for myself, and let go of for myself.  I am still in the process of self-discovery, and therefore, have yet to achieve total self-acceptance.  It would be dishonest of me to try to accept another when I have not yet fully accepted myself.  My love would be fleeting and restless, just as I am in life; bouncing around, desperately searching for my life’s passion, my calling.  I don’t want to be desperate in love, as it would end up left by the way side along with all of my other unfinished or unfulfilling self-pursuits.

But, oh, that beauty, that radiance, that warmth, that love.  It’s something that I look forward to, when I may deem myself ready and worthy.

Reuniting with an Old Friend

I set out with my friends and a birding acquaintance of theirs to northeastern Massachusetts, so that we might get a glimpse of the reported rarities and, for us, being from a land-locked part of the state, the equally obscure coastal birds.  We witnessed some beautiful birds, including the west-coast Townsend’s warbler, a lost Cassin’s kingbird, which should be in Mexico right now, an elegant great blue heron, and the strange-looking surf and white-winged scoters.  The hotspot for observing the coastal birds on our trip was the Park River National Wildlife Refuge on Plum Island, for which we bundled up to keep the chill of the frigid sea wind at bay. 

I strolled along the boardwalk, whose construction seemed to match that of the steady rise and fall of the sand dunes over which it was built.  As I neared the end of the boardwalk, I kept pausing to stand on my tip-toes and peer over the last row of sand dunes in anxious anticipation of the sight of the vast, blue ocean.  Finally, I saw it, but only a slight glimpse.  My heart skipped a beat; I felt like a kid in a candy store, exhilarated over what was at last within my grasp.  In between my last few peeps over the dunes, I jogged to the end of the boardwalk, past the birders on the landing, and down the sand-covered stairs.  I could barely contain my excitement with a broad smile stretched from ear to ear, as I stumbled through the shifting sand. 

As I approached the compacted, ocean swept stretch of the beach, I slowed my pace and heartily greeted my long-lost friend.  I stood as close as I dared to the incoming surf, inhaling that brisk, salty air and allowing the power of the wind and waves to reinvigorate my soul.  I fancied the waves instigating a chase, as they crashed into the shore and the bubbling, white foam glided up the beach towards my feet.  Instead of permitting such an attack, I crouched down just out of reach, and extended my arm to gently caress my friend, letting it know that I’m here, that I care, that it’s been missed.

With no end in sight over the horizon, the great, expansive ocean always serves as a reminder to me how insignificant myself and humanity, in general, are, and how mysterious life can be, full of secrets and unknowns.  Yet, there is a beauty in it that extends to humanity and to life itself, which trumps the negative that we might find in them.  It opens our eyes to the endless possibilities and the wonder of uncertainty; it humbles us.  I find the ocean to be inspiring and revitalizing, seeming to change who I am and how I reflect upon this life.  And so, once again, I long to be reunited with that friend, which has so dramatically affected me and changed my frame of mind, my outlook on life.