At the end of this fine week, as part of my upcoming work as Minister of Unconventional Love, I'll be officiating the marriage of two dear friends, Anneka and Ruby. In my research for this special occasion, I've discovered discussions of love are largely for music and trees. There are only a few who can wrap words around free pumping heart valves without spilling blood all over the place.
Alan Watts:
Consider love as a spectrum. There is not, as it were just nice love and nasty love, spiritual love and material love, mature affection on the one hand and infatuation on the other. These are all forms of the same energy. And you have to take it and let it grow where you find it. When you find only one of these forms existing, if at least you will water it, the rest will blossom as well.
Emily Dickinson:
There is
no first, or last
in Forever –
It is Centre, there,
all the time
Clarice Lispector:
I get scared. But my heart's beating. The inexplicable love makes the heart beat faster. The sole guarantee is that I was born. You are a form of being I, and I a form of being you: those are the limits of my possibility.
Whitman:
There we two, content, / happy in being together, speaking little, perhaps not a word.
