It’s Possible.

Romantically, I've always prided myself on never having been on a date. (My husband has tried to bend me to this seemingly benevolent convention, yet for myself, there is nothing more unnatural, and I can't help but reject the idea mentally.) I'd like to think that I do not size people up, like at an audition, as worthy or not worthy of Love. I am all for Living-- as a continuity of work and play and togetherness-- not as a time stamp on a ticket, but for always and forever.

I'd like to live Love at first, and last sight.

It would be best to admit upfront that I am skeptical of the thing itself. Love. Like calendars, rather than days, I believe in commitment and effort. Love is the work of Humanity. Coming from this perspective, I have the underlying understanding that we could love anybody-- that is if willing to put into action the profession of Faith that we are called to Love one another-- regardless.

It naturally follows: Love, f*ck, the limit. I am extremist in thinking.

It is a matter of logical consequence. Not implication. My personal history reinforced for me this perhaps unusual system of perceiving. Whatever crushes I had, were broken by my first sexual experiences. I was there. In my eyes, as a convenience. Not selection, not preference. This was a critical missing piece, childish, inconsistent to higher ideal. It took many years for me to recognize that I was the exception in societal conception of Loving. That "freak of nature."

Love, as admiration, was in fact the foundational sentiment then-- not use, or abuse-- as might be implied above. But I refused to acknowledge or accept it at the time, because of that applied filter of "differentiation." That expectation. If there was lack of emotion, it was my own cold wall of detachment, and I refused to see things for what they were-- beyond nametag of who he was or who I am.

This was decades ago. I apologize for the vagueness.

What I am trying to suggest is that Love, more often than not, is missed at first sight. At second and third even. We are blind as it were, in the mirror twin sense of the word: Prejudiced, after all. We see what we want to, and a considerable part of that is our own often faulty construct. We remain our own obstacle to Love. As individuals. As pairs, or families. As society. It is difficult to get past things that we believe should fall into place to make up a concept.

What is more fragmented and deconstructed throughout lifetime than the idea of Love? How is it that it seems to change, in definition, as our time goes on? and does it really? I don't think it does, as much as our relationship to it.

Somethings, some people, are easy to love; some are not. We know this. I suppose that what I would hope and expect, of myself now, is to look upon all the world, with Love.

That is a Love at first sight that one can believe in and practice with conviction.