If you’d only care to search ‘Love‘ keyword here at Musicpervs, you’ll most likely find plenty of poems, essays or personal shits — totally cracking open my unrestrained love affairs with love!
Gist of it all.
True love is a perhaps the answer to life’s awe-stretching journey, the sadness it pelts us with, the happiness it blesses us with.
Truthfully, true love is only as best as a good-enough one.
True love is not without flaws.
True love is a lot of hard work.
True Love is a luxury; Only earned by giving. Giving!
Most important of all, true love is deserved.
p.s. She duly reminded me, it’s been a long time since I had written anything on ‘Love‘.
When we first met in the airport after 4 years. I will never forget how she and I hugged each other. And how effortlessly, she sobbed from the deepest of her core.
Without a shred of doubt, there, she shed her most awaited tears of joy; there, she hugged — her most mattered faces on the planet, there, she unburdened her heavy, longing, aching heart, there, her wrecked soul was green and blue, flying free, there, her eyes were calmly watery, there she found a rest for her beaten bones, there… there she found herself.
The road ahead is dirt-wet, arduous, uncertain and messy.
Love, is hardly a marriage, not even a contract per se that bounded anybody,
There will be peaks and there will be valleys.
Despite. Despite, in a heartbeat I’ll travel with you until my journey ends!
Suffice to say — True love is a friendship. Period!
That If love were to be a living, breathing grown upass like we all are, the heartbeats that we know, would be undoubtedly the acceptance element at the deepest core.
And, now to reframe this peeling off of love’s many faces and facets, a line from Cynthia Hand from her book Boundless clogs up my brain :-
“I wanted to tell you that wherever I am, whatever happens, I’ll always think of you, and the time we spent together, as my happiest time. I’d do it all over again, if I had the choice. No regrets.”
Let Me down Slowly – Alec Benjamin (Feat. Alessia Cara)
Every winter in my city has dutifully dissolved into spring.
It’s a beautiful coincidence.
Whence, slowly but by and by, have all my pains, have all y.o.u.r struggles, gracefully shaped and duly built the better me, the better you.
It is too — a beautiful coincidence.
Just as Marcus Aurelius in his book Meditations says it best:
Just as nature takes every obstacle, every impediment, and works around it — turns it to its purposes, incorporates it into itself — so, too, a rational being can turn each setback into raw material and use it to achieve its goal.
That, every once a while, we scatter our hearts in the wrong places.
I just want you to know that it has happened for good and good only.
As I write this seated on my chair, underneath a warm-lamp on the table which puku generously gifted; Adele’s ‘Make you feel my love’ loops over and over, gracing the entire room in every piano strokes and with every words sung.
I like it here!
Now, this thing I’m going to deduce for you is gravely unpopular. Perhaps disturbing too, especially if your sweet brain is serotonin stoned — by virtue of all these meaningless, well-orchestrated Valentine’s day holy gawd rituals.
So, I don’t recommend reading any further if you absolutely dislike my idea of ridiculing how our love has been commercially manipulated and sold to us.
HappyValentine’s day my gigantic lovebirds!
. . .
Mum explains,”Valentine’s Day are for amateurs. Because, the real ones,… a true, deep and meaningful love requires all 365 days of everyday trust, support, understanding, care, and appreciation, and gratification and above all else the awe-wonderment despite few un-intended frictions; despite few wrong turns, despite every worst things that can happen; despite death.” On hindsight it looks more like a practically impossible vowto make as well as to keep at par but behold, it’s true. Isn’t it?
Which is why, I wouldn’t trade one particular day for the rest of the other days in my mortal calendar to make the love of my life feel really, really, really special. No!
F#%$, No!
Despite. Regardless, I’d like to practice open-mindedness.
Compulsively! Deliberately. Lovingly.
And, so, I really don’t despise this so-called love slash romanceday-of-the-year for all good intents and purposes.
It’s time, we cut all the bs thrown around ‘love’ narrative.
Which unknowingly, I’ve been a source myself of many such pompous jargons, in many, different occasions around my journey with pen and papers.
. . .
It’s time, we love from the profundity of gentleness, and stop buying into these expensive forms of love-business abstractions;
It’s time we save our ‘love’ from being sold
over superfluous gifts and ephemeral pleasure gigs,
over hard-to-keep promises and esoteric vocabs,
over inorganic tales, talks and triumph stories
like Valentine’s itself.
Because,
at last, love is merely a language, a calling, an expression and the literature of souls.
And, to love truly and fiercely is to have a courage to sink in, pour out, befall and fall free,
without any brush of influence, expectations and artificial pressure
butmerely, merely a WILL to give and share
every fabric of your being,
your whole Life Projectin every smallest detail possible.
Tonight, give time. Save roses!
Share experiences. Be present here and now.
Celebrate togetherness. Rejoice mortality.
Don’t inflate love. Let love exist.
Suspire.
. . .
On an ending note: The great Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard although never married, anguished for years over the existential personal puzzle of love and marriage. To which, he transformed the question into a revolutionary book, Either-Or, published anonymously as Enten-Eller in 1943.
In the book he writes, “Marry, and you will regret it; don’t marry, you will also regret it; marry or don’t marry, you will regret it either way. Laugh at the world’s foolishness, you will regret it; weep over it, you will regret that too; laugh at the world’s foolishness or weep over it, you will regret both. Believe a woman, you will regret it; believe her not, you will also regret it… Hang yourself, you will regret it; do not hang yourself, and you will regret that too; hang yourself or don’t hang yourself, you’ll regret it either way; whether you hang yourself or do not hang yourself, you will regret both. This, gentlemen, is the essence of all philosophy.”
, published anonymously as Enten-Eller in 1943.