A dear friend of mine is in love. You can tell when you look at her that love is the case because of the way her skin flushes, and her blue eyes meet everything they take in with an undeniable sparkle. Her hair has taken on a new sheen too. It's cheaper than any beauty treatment on the planet - falling in love.
But when love comes our way, sits right in front of us, declares us "lovely, lovely, lovely," we tend to shy away in disbelief - "Who, me?" we might say. And then we back away.
On the deepest level we know it's right here, now, that we are indeed lovely and lovable. That kind of gut level knowing is horribly romantic; we know love is there in a primitive, basic way; we remember it, and our bodies light up when they are reminded of it.
We wonder - "am I pretty enough, am I witty enough, am I enough?" But love hangs on - it appears in dreams, whispering over and over again - "Now, now, now" and even though we don't feel ready, that now is here, and our own misguided disbelief is all that's keeping us from joining what's already happening right now: love, at an explosive, uncontained, pure level.
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