Was it Kundera?
Who is the writer proposing that true love is made of freedom? No rules. No conformity. No expectations. True acceptance of another in failings, flailing, flat-lining on mistake after mistake.
Who is it who writes about love and its ability to thrive when given free reign? The understanding that holding on to some ideal is only going to tether the love you have created and drown it under the rock of burden.
Let go the ropes of tradition.
Let go the desire you temper for Sunday’s pew.
Let go the callings of should do’s and shouldn’ts.
Let go the anchor of security. Find the heart, beating wild, in you.
Breathe freely the love of acceptance. Give abandon its place in your world.
#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web. Posted September 18, 2017
The pull of our children is great— not that we need their love, but that we have put them into the position of knowing that love is a choice.
Love, and all that goes with the lives we created so many years ago was a choice… and to our children, it was always a given.
I desperately want to protect them from the ugly truth that Love does not Conquer all. I can love, but it doesn’t make everything perfect. It doesn’t fix things.
So what does make things beautiful, what makes things more perfect, what does fix things???
It isn’t love— it’s how we act in the name of love.
It is how we speak in the name of love.
It is how we listen in the name of love.
It is how we tolerate and accept inadequacies and failings in the name of love.
It is how we trust in the name of love.
Love comes down to actions, as always, actions.
So where does passion fall into this?
Where is joy?
Where is the easy smile that comes with just sitting around in eachother’s shared space and breathing together?
Where is the fit that has space for our children and our dreams and our poetic selves?
Where is the love for your emerging self?
#for Reticent Mental Property. Posted on Dec 15, 2016.
We wish for freedom from the tethers of tedium
and then wait upon that cliff, clinging,
until it crumbles, unravels,
beneath our feet.
While hiding behind process, weighing options, measuring convention,
we know we haven’t truly planned to leap at all-
our own volition: weak.
Instead we wait for the falling,
after the forced push from behind,
and then have the balls to look over our shoulder and blame
Don’t give me an out, just tell me it is done; And let me make my own foolishness.
#for Reticent Mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.
Because of you, I love…
She didn’t believe. Until, him.
#for Reticent mental Property. Images courtesy of the web.