Even More Musings on Love

What if Loving and Being Loved is only ever the by-product of two people who are living their authentic true selves individually and in doing so connect with one another? What if most of what we think of as "love" (i.e. marriage, fidelity, romance, passion) are forms and behaviors that try to "mimic" the naturally-occurring characteristics of Loving and Being Loved? What if these forms are essentially trying to "package" real emotions, thoughts, feelings and reactions in a way that gives us the illusion that we can own, keep and depend upon them never changing? What if real, true Loving and Being Loved occurs in the places we least expect it, when our guard is down, when our belts are undone, when when our hair is loose and we are sitting criss cross applesauce in our fuzzy socks, holey t-shirts and flannel jammie pants, talking from our real selves in an utterly relaxed and unconscious way because there is no illusion left? What if real intimacy can't even begin to be experienced until we are, spiritually, lying exhausted, snotty-nosed and hiccuppey from sobbing out the most shameful and repressed story we had sworn we'd never tell anyone, and we find someone's arms around us, their lips gently kissing our eyelids and forehead and their voice whispering in our ears, "I am so sorry you carried so much shame all alone for all these years." What if we are busy doing the equivalent of staging pictures of life's most tender moments rather than feeling what fills us when we actually experience those tender moments? What if we are doing the equivalent of sleeping next to a paper cut-out of our beloved, not understanding why we don't feel warm skin, soft hair, and flesh against flesh when we embrace it? No, we don't feel satisfied. Yes, marriages aren't sustainable at least half the time. Of course we are left with carcasses of dead relationships that we don't know where or how to bury. Obviously, we are confused, the desire for the real deal always just the tiniest bit stronger than the fatigue and disappointment of love, once again, eluding us. But still we keep reaching and chasing. We keep longing despite our oaths to ourselves to stop expecting the impossible. What if it's as simple seeing who ends up being beside us when we find ourselves swept up in the current of being real and living the life we need and want? What if we have to walk through a doorway that no one else seems to even notice and that seems to scare everyone else before we can step into a garden the person we might love and be loved by stepped into through a doorway in their world that was equally unpopular or easy to walk through? What if it's as simple as being on the way to who i really am and doing what feels right and good inside, I meet someone else on that road?