Category: Love

“Your task is not to seek love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” ~Rumi

After I wrote yesterday’s post about giving and receiving love, I started to think about the many times in the past when I felt love-deprived.

It’s easy to feel that way when we’ve been hurt or we think we’re alone—as if there aren’t any people who are really looking out for us.

In retrospect, I realize that when I felt this way, it wasn’t that no one loved me. It was that I was too busy looking for love to open my eyes and see it.

I was too busy craving romantic love to recognize and appreciate the other forms of love coming at me; as a result, I came to every potential partner with a deep sense of neediness and lack.

Love was the one thing I didn’t have. And yet it was all around me.

What I’ve learned is that receiving love doesn’t necessarily mean opening up to a long-term relationship, though of course it can mean that. It also means consciously looking for acts of love and them choosing to appreciate and accept them.

When someone looks out for you, empathizes with you, stands up for you, listens to you, relates to you, appreciates you, respects you, accepts you, or acknowledges you, they are giving you love.

When someone thanks you, encourages you, believes in you, supports you, forgives you, soothes you, uplifts you, or trusts you, they are giving you love.

When someone opens up to you, tries to know you, stays strong for you, assumes the best in you, compliments you, mentors you, makes time for you, or makes an effort for you, they are giving you love.

Love is always coming at us, in one form or another—sometimes from friends, sometimes from family, sometimes from strangers we may only know in passing.

It might be a thoughtful call at just the right time, a warm hug for no good reason, or even a supportive blog comment on a day when you felt weak and afraid.

We all have so much love to give, and we’re giving it every day. The only question is whether or not we’re also able to recognize and really receive it.

Thank you to all of you for the love you sent me this last week. It makes a big difference for me, and I appreciate it!

Photo here

“Eventually you will come to realize that love heals everything, and love is all there is.” -Gary Zukav

The end of last week was a little tough for me.

I was waiting to be scheduled for surgery, knowing it could fall anywhere within the next three months. I was realizing I will soon have thousands of dollars in medical and dental bills, between that, a recent mammogram to test another suspicious lump, and my eight cavity fillings.

I was worrying about disappointing my engaged sister who is expecting me to fly home soon for dress shopping, while also feeling overwhelmed about the three different sets of visitors I will be hosting in March. Lastly, I was dealing with some old issues that resurface every now and then, two decades after I first began addressing them.

On Thursday night, when my boyfriend and I were out for dinner, it took a Herculean effort to not break down in tears, which I knew would be embarrassing for him. I made it to the car and cried the whole way home.

Being the understanding, supportive person he is, he listened to me for more than an hour that night, and again on Friday morning when I started crying just minutes after waking up.

I don’t think I had a single thought that didn’t revolve around me, my discomfort, and my need to work through my feelings.

On Saturday morning, something occurred to me: I had been obsessing about myself and my circumstances, and my boyfriend willingly sat in that space with me, a source of nonjudgmental friendship and kindness.

What I had I done for him lately? Caught up as I was in my own drama, what effort had I made to be thoughtful—not in reciprocation, but just because I love and appreciate him?

So I emailed him at his work, offering to make our grocery run and then take him out to dinner. And I knew I brightened his day, the way he often brightens mine. Suddenly I felt a profound sense of relief, gratitude, and peace.

It wasn’t because I’d solved all my problems. It wasn’t because I’d made any major emotional breakthroughs. It was because I stopped focusing on those things, remembered how fortunate I am to have love in my life, and then put my love into action.

That’s the remarkable thing about love. It has an amazing power to heal—not just in the getting, but also in the giving.

Photo by kalyan02

“Love isn’t a state of perfect caring. It is an active noun, like struggle. To love someone is to strive to accept that person exactly the way he or she is, right here and now.” –Fred Rogers

Over the years, we form a lot of ideas about what love is, oftentimes based on unrealistic hopes and standards. We learn what we think it’s supposed to look like, and we may find ourselves frustrated when reality falls short.

It often does. Love can be messy, confusing, and imperfect, just like us, and life itself.

What Hallmark cards don’t always tell us is what love isn’t, but sometimes we need to strip away ideals in order to understand and appreciate what’s real.

Love isn’t always patient. Sometimes we get short, brusque, or frustrated with the people we love the most. Love is, however, recognizing that, taking a few deep breaths, and then doing our best to see the people we care about with compassion and understanding.

Love isn’t always kind. Sometimes we say things we later regret to the people we love the most. Love is, however, recognizing that, taking responsibility, and then doing our best to be caring and considerate in our future interactions.

Love isn’t always selfless. Sometimes we fail to consider the needs of the people we love the most. Love is, however, recognizing that, taking their feelings into account, and then doing our best to find a balance between giving and taking.

Love isn’t always trusting. Sometimes we doubt the people we love the most. Love is, however, recognizing that, taking a close look at where our suspicions really come from, and then doing our best to see the best in people instead of assuming the worst.

Love sometimes envies. Love is sometimes easily angered. Love sometimes keeps a record of wrongs. Love does all these things because we sometimes do these things.

Acknowledging this doesn’t mean condoning it; it means recognizing that love doesn’t cure us of our natural human tendency to make mistakes.

Love doesn’t fail because we mess up from time to time. It fails when we fail to accept that we all do, and then think something is wrong instead of making things right.

Love isn’t life without conflict. It’s about wanting and working to overcome it together.

Photo by Alice Popkorn

“Once you have learned to love, you will have learned to live.” -Unknown

My high school vocal teacher said that “love” is the most beautiful word in the English language, so I should let it roll off my tongue like honey to make it thick, sweet and poignant.

So I did. I sang it deeply, slowly, and soulfully, though I never spoke the word. I came from a family that didn’t really express emotion, so I filed it away with all the things I wanted to say but didn’t.

When I started dating, I couldn’t wait to profess my love, long before I actually felt it. I said it at every chance I could get because that’s how often I wanted to hear it.

I wanted it to constantly roll like honey toward me, so I could feel warm, safe, and unconditionally accepted. I whispered it, mumbled it, yelled it, and even cried it, all while having no idea what it really felt like. It was my gift and my curse, wrapped in fear, insecurity, and need.

Over the years, I’ve put a lot of effort into learning to love myself and others; and in the process, I realized I wanted to say “I love you” a lot less and a lot more often. I wanted to say it less when I didn’t really mean it and more when I actually did.

I wanted to stop reciting it like a parrot to men who weren’t good for me, and start expressing it deeply, slowly, and soulfully to the people I really cared about.

So often in life, we avoid expressing our feelings in fear that it will be awkward. The first time I said I love you to my eight-years-younger brother, the word felt almost foreign. I felt uncomfortable mostly because I was afraid I’d make him feel that way.

Now I tell him every time we speak. I do the same with every other family member. And many of my friends. And even many of the people I engage with through this site. Why? Because life is too short to feel love and not express it.

Love is the most beautiful word in the English language—when it comes from a place of genuine care, affection, and appreciation.

Who do you love in your life, and when is the last time you told them?

Photo by Saucy Salad

“Love is not love until love’s vulnerable.” -Theodore Roethke

Sometimes people submit posts and I swear I could have written them myself. In reading their stories—learning about the emotions they’re feeling and the pain they’re healing—I feel close to them; and I also develop a better understanding of myself and what I need to do to keep growing.

Other times, I can’t relate to their experiences, but suddenly I feel compassion for behaviors I may formerly have misunderstood.

This, I believe is the power of vulnerability. When we open up to each other, we invite people to understand us, and let them know we want to understand them. We break down the barriers of judgment and fear and, in doing so feel safe, connected, and supported.

I came to Tiny Buddha from a far different place. Formerly, I lived in a world where security meant solitude, and connection meant pain. I saw everyone as someone waiting to hurt me, if I didn’t keep my guard up.

It’s easier to let your guard down when other people do the same. But the reality is someone has to go first. Intimacy doesn’t happen spontaneously. It’s something we have to create by choosing to be authentic.

That can be a scary thing—especially since we never know how we’ll be received when we put ourselves out there, or if other people will respond in kind.

Over the past few years, I’ve put a lot of effort into building solid friendships. This is something that’s always been challenging for me; or perhaps more accurately, something I always made difficult. Sometimes I tried too hard, or created drama, or pushed people away.

I wanted so badly to be loved and accepted, but in my fear of not receiving that, I set myself up to be feared and rejected.

I know now that meaningful, intimate relationships start when someone dares to be genuine; and that happiness is accepting the possibility of rejection and choosing not to reject ourselves in response.

My genuine truth is that I would prefer to live in a world where everyone else let their guard down first.

But if intimacy is seeing ourselves in each other, maybe it starts with understanding that other people may feel that way too.

Today I commit to going first—both to give love and acceptance and create the possibility of receiving them. Will you?

Photo by Christian Haugen

“Before someone’s tomorrow has been taken away, cherish those you love, appreciate them today.” -Michelle C. Ustaszeski

Familiarity can sometimes seem like permanence. Oftentimes the more comfortable we are with someone, the less effort we put into our time with them.

As I’ve mentioned before, I visit my family on the east coast several times each year for two weeks at a time. Every time I leave California, it’s bittersweet because I’m leaving my boyfriend Ehren to go see people I love.

And every time I leave Massachusetts, I’m leaving my family for even longer to resume my life with someone else I love.

Because I spend more time with Ehren, I go through phases where I don’t fully see him for the gift that he is. I might assume that I know what he’s talking about instead of fully listening. Or fail to fully appreciate the qualities that drew me to him, because I’m accustomed to them.

I don’t always recognize when I’m doing these things, but when I do, I remember the airport.

In that transient state between there and there, I’ve learned a lot about what it really means to be here—to recognize that everything changes and appreciate it all while it lasts.

When Ehren drops me off for a flight, I look him in the deeply in the eyes and realize how fortunate I am for the time we get to spend together. When my family brings me to Logan, I do the same with them. And while I’m in the air between them, I remember to appreciate the time I spend with myself.

The reality is that nothing in life is permanent–not even our closest relationships–meaning this moment is the ideal time to pay attention to each other, understand each other, forgive each other, and be honest with each other.

Occasionally, we may take each other for granted, or get caught up in little squabbles that we wouldn’t choose to hang onto if we knew our time together was running short. We never get to know when that will happen; we only know it eventually will.

Every moment we have together is valuable. Whether or not it feels that way is entirely up to us.

Photo by Luciano Meirelles

“You validate people’s lives by your attention.” -Unknown

For as long as I can remember, wanting attention has seemed like a shameful thing.

“She’s only doing that for attention.” “He’s only telling that sob story for attention.” “She only volunteered to help for attention.”

Have you ever said or heard something like this? I know I have. Many times throughout my life, I’ve analyzed people’s words and actions and essentially judged whether or not their intention was to hoist themselves into the spotlight.

Every time I’ve done this, somewhere inside me I’ve thought, “It’s bad to be desperate for attention.” And somewhere underneath that, “I hate that I’ve been desperate for attention.”

Call it second child syndrome, but I came out of the womb screaming, “Look at me!” And then “What are you looking at?”

That’s the thing about insecurity—you simultaneously crave an audience and fear what they might be thinking.

I have a healthier sense of self these days, but I can still be triggered by (what I might believe is) attention seeking behavior—and it’s generally because I’m subconsciously judging many of my former choices.

Not everyone acts out to gain approval, but no matter how you slice it, the desire for attention is a call for love. What would happen if we started seeing it that way, instead of turning attention into a four letter word?

I’m not talking about enabling people when they’re doing dangerous things, or condoning disrespectful, inconsiderate choices.

I’m talking about shifting our perceptions so that we’re less apt to judge and more likely to understand. That doesn’t mean we need to be pulled into drama. It just means we look a little below the surface to empathize before responding–and in this way, we’re better able to recognize when attention seeking is actually a cry for help.

We all look for validation every now and then. We’re all people who want attention. And we can all choose to be compassionate when we see a call for love instead of judging the need.

Photo by sarniebill

“Love does not care to define and is never in a hurry to do so.” -Charles Du Bos

Love is a tricky thing because it’s something we both give and receive—and yet it’s so much easier to dwell on the love we’re not getting than to recognize the love we’re not giving.

I used to have a simultaneously broad and narrow definition for love. Broad, because it encompassed a vast number of idealistic guidelines, and narrow because these limiting rules quickly labeled most relationships loveless.

If someone didn’t seem to offer me their unconditional understanding, or if they appeared to judge me, or if they somehow fell short of my rigid expectations, I assumed I was getting the short end of the love stick.

That wasn’t love, I’d reason. Love is patient, love is kind, and so on.

But just how loving is it to view people through this kind of microscope, dissecting their every action and measuring them against some impossible ideal?

How can we expect people to love us how we want to be loved if we’re too busy judging them to extend that same courtesy?

I’ve written and published many posts that define and quantify love—what it looks like in actions and exactly how we can express it. To some extent, I think this is helpful because it reminds us how to act kindly, compassionately, and non-judgmentally.

It takes something abstract and it gives it form and function.

But maybe real love is recognizing that love is never perfect. That every day, we all teeter between love and fear, wanting to give, but sometimes being less than understanding and kind; wanting to receive, but sometimes being less than vulnerable and open.

I haven’t always given the people I love the benefit of the doubt—or the best of me. At times, I’ve been so busy looking for signs that someone doesn’t care that I made it nearly impossible to show them how much I do.

Today I choose to love less rigidly—to give, to take, and do both with less judgment. How will you love today?

Photo by mattieb

“The most I can do for my friend is simply be his friend.” -Henry David Thoreau

Yesterday I helped a friend with a project that he’d spent a lot of time, money, and energy planning as a surprise for someone he loves. I knew it meant a lot to him to do this–and do it well.

Things didn’t work out as he had planned, partly due to some misguided advice I gave him. Since he’d been working on it for days, it was an incredible disappointment. I could see the sadness in his face as he saw the final product and realized it wouldn’t make the impact he’d hoped it would.

I felt like it was partially my fault. But even if I hadn’t given him bad advice, I suspect I still would have felt responsible for taking away his sadness. I have done it all through life. When I see someone hurting, I feel an imperative to make everything better. I make suggestions, I offer to do all kinds of things they likely need to do for themselves, and I generally try absorb their feelings with my extreme resistance to seeing and accepting them.

This is more about what I want–to not see someone hurting–than what the other person needs–to simply be with their feelings.

While his is a minor disappointment in the grand scheme of things, there will be other times when people around me are in immense pain. The same is true for all of us. People we know will stumble, and struggle, and maybe even fall apart. It will be hard to watch–perhaps even heartbreaking. Instinctively, we’ll want to help in any way we can, and that’s a good thing.

But people also need to be able to go through their own emotional processes, with pains big and small. Sometimes all we can do is be there, a silent but supportive witness to the sorrow.

We all need a hand every now and then, but most often we don’t need a hero to save us; we need friends who understand when to step up and when to give us space to work through what we’re feeling. Everything heals with time–being a friend means supporting that, not rushing it.

Photo by liveandrock

“An honest answer is the sign of true friendship.” -Proverb

Have you ever had a lengthy conversation with someone without acknowledging a single thing you were really thinking or feeling?

Maybe someone asked, “How are you?” And, instinctively, you said, “Fine.” Or someone asked, “What’s new?” And your knee-jerk response was, “Not much.” Or someone asked your opinion, and you glossed over what you really think to avoid making waves.

I suspect we do this because we don’t want to burden people with what’s really on our minds, open ourselves up to judgment, or somehow upset them.

The end result is polite disconnection. We keep things simple, courteous, and completely devoid of truth. It’s a choice to be alone together–sharing space, but little else; connecting without really engaging.

We rob people of the opportunity to be there for us when we don’t share what we actually think and feel. We also send a message that we’re not the type of friends who will really be there for them.

It can be scary to speak what’s really on your mind, particularly if you need some guidance and feel vulnerable admitting that you don’t have everything figured out. The truth is, no one does. Sometimes we all need to lean on each other–and that only works if we’re all willing to be honest.

A few days ago, a very kind Tiny Buddha reader offered to coach me on the phone to work through my public speaking nerves. She asked some probing questions, as coaches often do, and I answered candidly, forming some strong insights that I know will help me going forward.

At the end of the call, I felt like I’d made a new friend, and it happened really simply: She was honest with me, I was honest with her, and we met each other as equals, each with our own strengths and weaknesses.

We’re all equals. We’re all struggling with something. We’re all working to let of something. We’re all working to embrace something else. The world would be a far less lonely place if we could remember this and just be honest.

Photo by Big Mind Zen Center