Yet, love spontaneously...
not because you must, but because you do!!
Be unafraid to show that you love.
Be unafraid to say it!

Consider the joy you can give,
rather than what you can get.

In the background, you're hearing the glorious love theme from the movie, Love Story,
which, when it made its debut in the 1960's,
was literally the only soft, romantic movie of an era of
harsh stories, following several harsh wars.
How welcome it was!

Caught in the quiet
off on our own,
coming together,
staying alone....

There are some wars
a man should never be afraid to lose.
One is the loss that comes from loving,
whether in the lightning
or the dark.

Loving
is the only sure road
out of darkness,
the only serum known
that cures self-centeredness
or puts it there.

~~~~Rod McKuen~~Caught In The Quiet

Those were, of course, from one of Rod McKuen's many books of poetry
of the period between the late 1960's and early 1970's.
His poignant messages delivered in incredibly simple, yet feeling words
His musical compositions were also lovely
and simple, both lyrics and music.
His lyrics to If You Go Away, set to haunting music by Jacques Brel,
are featured on another page in my site. Beautiful!

There follows a poem which was required memorizing
in my senior year of high school.
It's terribly old-fashioned, yes.
Its author lived in the 16th century!
I may not even agree with all of it.
See what you think!

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying.

Then be not coy, but use your time;
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry.

_______Robert Herrick

Here's another by the same poet.
The intensity of devotion to the beloved may be extreme.
Yet - have you never felt such profound intensity?
If not, you've missed something precious.

Bid me to live, and I will live,
Thy protestant to be:
Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.

Bid me to weep, and I will weep,
While I have eyes to see.

Bid me despair, and I'll despair,
Under that cypress tree:
Or bid me die, and I will dare
E'en Death, to die for thee.

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me:
And hast command of every part,
To live and die for thee.

_______Robert Herrick

There was a mother who walked along a beach with her teenage daughter.
They picked up shells and talked of many things.
The subject eventually turned to love.

After awhile, the girl paused and said,
"OK, there are various ways to attract love.
But, Mother, once one has attracted it, then what?
How does one keep it?"

Still walking along, the mother fell silent.
Then she reached down and scooped up a handful of sand.
She held it forth on her palm toward her daughter,
who looked first at the sand,
then at the enigmatic face of her mother,
then back at the sand as though expecting it to speak,
as it lay there so contentedly.

Instead she saw her mother's fingers begin to close around the sand
until her hand was becoming a fist.
The daughter soon began to see sand sifting,
escaping between her mother's fingers.
The more tightly her mother squeezed,
the more rapidly the sand ran out and fell to the ground from whence it came.

Finally, the mother relaxed her grip -
began to unfold her fist and to open her fingers
- to expose her palm once more.

But - alas! - on it lay
only a few errant grains sticking to her skin,
of the multitude of sand with which she had begun!

The daughter gazed at the empty palm.
Then she raised her eyes back to her mother's face,
l ooked into her eyes as they exchanged knowing looks.
The daughter finally simply said, "I see!"

People define love in many ways, I suppose.
Certainly love manifests itself in different ways.

My admired poet-philosopher, Kahlil Gibran,
makes no attempt to define it when he speaks of it in The Prophet.
He speaks, instead, of its effects.
He speaks of how it feels to love.
He speaks of love's joy and of how it prunes one's branches and trims ones edge.
He compares the profound value of love to lesser values.
He speaks of being wounded by one's own understanding of love.

Perhaps experiencing all of its effects and understanding them
are the only sure ways we have of knowing Love when it comes to us.
After all it brings about in us,- from ecstasy to anquish, -
yet we are left better for its being there and abiding with us.

But if we try to cling to it, it withers.
If we try to clutch at it, it escapes.
If we attempt to pick and choose only its "goodies" and none of its tribulatons,
we are left with only diluted feelings of either.
If we try to capture or contain it, it vanishes.
If we attempt to direct it to our purposes, we destroy it.

To truly have love - we must simply let it freely BE,
even to go - if it wishes to, or if it must.
We must treasure what it IS,
however that may BE, for whatever time it may endure.