“I, the intrepid and uncompromising explorer…”


blogHow beautiful is this?

Very. 

       I’m in a mood tonight.  To be honest, that’s descriptive of me more often than not on most nights.  “She’s in a mood again.”  I’ll equate it to a writer’s tendency; I’ll say it’s just a quirk.

       I think about life frequently.  I think about love and how wonderful it is that we are capable of such a thing that it’s almost too much to describe.  We sure try to describe it.  We create vast depictions of it.  We sensualize it.  We wrap ourselves in it and forget about reality.  We allow ourselves to succumb to fantasy.  We love haphazardly.  Sometimes we abandon all logic to chase it.

       Why?  I’ve heard other people ask this question about love and it always causes me to take pause.  If ever we were to have a purpose, if ever we were to discover a vein of  solid proof as to why we exist, I know that love would be interwoven throughout.  Our ability to love and create art, these may not be definitive clues as to why we are here but surely they define the parts of us that are truly amazing.  Love is what makes this existence worth all of the horrid, all of the disgusting, all of the dissonance we inevitably experience.

       Be it unrequited or all out passion, be it secret or shouted from every possible point imaginable, be it romantic and in the moment or an innate knowledge,  I will maintain that love is the answer to any existential crisis. 

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