Love - Dream

 Love, that greatest of things, a dream within a dream.

I woke up from a dream in which I was telling a person about love. How people thought it was like ice cream, an almost universally agreed upon good experience except by the lactose intolerant. And even they might want it sometimes. But love can also be like cigarettes or alcohol, in that it leaves its mark on you through your continued exposure, it comes in intense small packages, and you have to choose it often as a habit. Love becomes a part of you, as Rex Harrison talk sings about in My Fair Lady's "I've grown accustomed to her face."

Love is famously encapsulated in 1 Corinthians 13. It is endlessly sung about and defined, including people yelling that they want to know what love is, more that they need to to be shown to them. In the musical Hairspray, the absence of it is described with great vigor, a song which is highly beloved of my sisters at karaoke.

And while many have attempted to get it down on paper, the world painted with new discoveries of what it means to people. You learn things about yourself and others and call it out as being through the lens of love. Love is paying attention to minor details, it is taking care of major details, it is responsibility for wrongs done. Love is showing up. Love is listening and knowing when and how to respond to what is said and what goes without saying. Love is enduring pain and hardship for the sake of a commitment or greater purpose found in it. Love is in doing foolish things that bring laughter and delight to the object of your affection. Love is supportive, which requires contact and sometimes a push in a direction of growth or opportunity. And sometimes love is resistance against a familiar pressure, a small seed of self dying to fertilize a greater future growth in a different area.