Love is primal. Love connects us to our mission, to other people and — most importantly — to our own unfolding selves.
Love in its darkest, most foreboding of forms, can be unnerving. It can sting, decimate, and dismantle.
But there is a particularly riveting flavor of love: passionate love.
The “Oh man, I’m standing at the precipice of something that is so insanely seasoned with possibilities that I want to wrap myself up in it, while laughing and sobbing at a cellular level” kind of love.
Passionate love puts an energetic spring in our step.
We make uncharacteristically rash and flowery gestures.
We’re dizzy with purpose, with hope, with joy.
Love pins down elation at every tick of the clock. With love, we’re suspended from our usual sense of insignificance, delighted as we finally feel witnessed — and even celebrated — by our beloved.
Love gives us boundless energy and courage – we feel limitless, unburdened by logistics.
We’re pulled from the safe path of the familiar, feeling no fear as we bound toward uncharted alleyways and detours.
When we’re knee-deep in love we celebrate our passion as well as our humanity.
I often ponder the countless poems, novels, epic plays, mournful ballads, iconic paintings, crush-fueled mix-tapes, memorable movies and timeless sculptures: all inspired by, molded after + created in honor of the most captivating + luxurious of all emotions: love.
Undeniably, we are obsessed with it.
Somersault over it.
Agonize. Revel. Shine + cower in its presence.
It’s pure. It’s potent.
And there is one thing I know for sure–it works.