“Whoever gives nothing has nothing. The greatest misfortune is not to be unloved, but not to love.”
– Albert Camus
For centuries, people have sought to rationalize love: what it is, where it comes from, and why it exists. These questions have found their way into many fields, from philosophy to evolution theory, yet I sometimes wonder if reasoning alone is enough to understand love. To be truly known, I believe love must first be felt, embodied, and given. My religion, which I believe is the source of my love, teaches me to be unconditional with it- even towards those who have hurt me. I find that teaching to be so liberating; striving to always act out of love has freed me from myself, from my fears, and from my limitations. In this way, love becomes an offering through which I am humbled, yet empowered, through acts of giving and receiving.
By exploring how I interact with love and how it shapes me, I come to realise that love is like my shadow: always shifting in shape and size, but inseparable from me, despite not always being perceived. Like my shadow, I consider my acts of love as an extension of who I am. Through these acts, I am met with my own capacity for grace, patience, and mercy- a practice rooted in an understanding that love is a journey of self-discovery. I am grateful to say that l have experienced love so fruitfully in many different places.
Although love has been considerably abundant throughout my life, I have also experienced grief and confusion because of it. Sometimes, we love things that we cannot keep, or that are unattainable. I have loved many such things. However, I try to remind myself that loss does not always mean an absence of love- for grief in itself is love in the face of impermanence.
All that said, the relentless violence in our world has made me hold on to the things I love more tightly and urgently. I dream of a world where love is peace, and peace is real, but am unsure if such a world could exist. Therefore, I can only hope the poets and artists never stop trying to portray it, the pragmatic never stop trying to describe it, and those who have yet to experience it are met with the most pure and genuine love. Even if the world fails to meet these wishes, I remain hopeful that love, even in its smallest ways, will find us and awaken our sense of hope and wonder.
Author’s note: A teacher of mine used to say that there was nothing wrong with not knowing, only with not asking, and I believe the same is true for love. Whether from a place of curiosity or doubt, to ask questions is to give yourself permission to grow-- to meet yourself where you truly are, even if that means accepting that you don’t have all the answers.
Inspired by that teaching, I decided to let my uncertainty guide me towards being more open. Led by my own doubts, I committed to being more vulnerable and honest in my outreach this year. For example, I reached out to an author who filled me with a sense of wonder during my childhood. By writing and sending them a letter, my intention was to honor their impact on me. Although I did not get a response, I still felt a sense of liberation in reaching out. I realized that while my letter was intended for them, it was also for me; it represented the love that lives through me in writing it. This experience, among many others, amplified my curiosity about love.
I have so many more questions about love and how it acts through us, and the greatest act of compassion I can give is to meet myself where I am, every time.
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What conditions need to be in place for me to embody love?
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What about love is so unnerving to me?
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Do our fears and longing towards love come from the same place of vulnerability?
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How can we both protect ourselves and still stay open to love?
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Does love need to grow over years, or can it exist in a single moment?
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From where does love originate?
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What is love, in its purest form, and what keeps it alive?
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Why does love find circumstances where it cannot be nurtured, and what does this contradiction mean?
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Are we the only beings capable of love?
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What is the biggest act of love anyone could take part in?
Author’s note: I wrote this poem in tribute to our lived experiences and skepticism surrounding love- its ability to make us feel alive, to wound us, yet somehow persist. The sea and the earth become symbols for love’s destruction and rebirth, and we embody both. Throughout this poem, I reflect on our mortality in relation to love, and its power to endure past the fragility of human life. From an evolutionary perspective, “to hesitate is to die,” yet, we continue to hesitate on love’s door despite the inevitable passage of our time. I believe that to know love is to become rebirthed metaphorically, and this is what I try to portray. Love endures, transforms, and heals- and it will always return.
Sea creases against your bare hands,
Aphrodite’s dripping tears,
dripping ocean.
You shudder against the salt
as you once shuddered for love,
like the water now ripples
for your loss.
The sea hums,
“To hesitate is to die.”
Yet, on sinking ships we wait,
perishing in increments
but in the masses.
Our chambers empty of blood,
but never of ammunition:
like we carry guns,
love carries the ocean.
But, love does not sink—
like the waves, it always returns.
Lathering the sand,
stuffing the rocks,
claiming new depths.
An offering to the trees,
and eternal through burial.
“To hesitate is to die.”
Yet, I think of love after death,
as life itself.
Its final whirlpool a silent undoing;
roots cradling my bones,
critters finding rest above the dirt.
Letting the insects carve me open,
in their hunger,
they whisper forgiveness.
I will wait, I will perish,
but I’ve stood, I’ve existed.
Will love remember me
when even the soil forgets my shape?
In this sacred return, I finally become
that which has haunted me in life.
What grows in my soil and remains of
my love will testify for me instead.
THREE THINGS I LOVE ABOUT PAFOS - Ly
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Peace, Quiet, & An Unhurried Pace
As a 13-year-old living in the bustling capital city of Hanoi where millions of people are always on the go and life never seemed to pause, when I moved to Pafos, it changed everything.
I certainly did not know what awaited me. I had no idea nor was I ready to have a new life in this land where everything was so different. The culture and the pace of life is the opposite of where I moved from.
I was used to pollution, a smoky sky, and just the noise of society filled with what I saw as emptiness and shallow ambition. Life was fast. I’ve learned that too much stimulation doesn't make me happy for too long.
When I started my new chapter on this island, life was surely slower. But this is where it started to change me: slowing down gave me space to think about what truly matters.
And slowly, the peace, beauty, and quietness of this city captivated me. Not a supercity with convenience at your hands, but a connection to life that felt more aligned with me, and I realized this essence is what gives me life.
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Beauty and Memories
I love Pafos and in its beauty I think I found myself again.
The environment mirrors back and amplifies things that are valuable to me: slowing down and taking things in.
I can access nature with such ease, which is so noticeable because before coming here, I had almost forgotten to watch the sunset since it was blocked by buildings, but in Pafos there’s so much spaciousness.
I was inspired by my dad as he often drove us to the shore where the sun set. The sunsets in Pafos are absolutely breathtaking. When the sky changes color and begins to glow, everything stops and it's so beautiful that I forget my problems and am reminded that there is so much more in life.
I love making memories here with people I enjoy and with all the beauty of nature around. I love picnicking with friends after class at the local parks with lush green grass, an open sky, having great conversation, and everything feeling perfect, not because of perfection, but because of the fulfillment of noticing how nice it is to feel good and at ease.
Pafos wraps me up in a way not all places can offer, and I know that these are moments I'll never forget.
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History of the Land
The land of Pafos holds a deep history that makes ancient stories I once read in the Bible feel real and closer in time than ever. My relationship to my religion is very important to me, so walking the same ground where Paul and Barnabas journeyed to share the gospel over 2,000 years ago turns scripture into something tangible.
Interestingly, this is also the reason my dad brought us here. One spring day, standing at Saint Paul’s Church, he felt a strong connection to the land and to the mission of those who walked it millennia before us. That connection resonates with me too. It’s as if their purpose and mission are still in the air.
I respect and admire how my dad wants to bring light and hope and comfort in people’s lives in the best way he knows how to serve. So the history of the land and how I feel in it is special and knowing that it’s something my dad and I share make it extra special.
THREE THINGS I LOVE ABOUT PAFOS - Rosalyne
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Cats
I never thought that some of my first friends in Pafos would be cats, but very quickly, I found them everywhere: printed on coasters and bags, curled in local spots, and occasionally fighting on the streets.
This shouldn’t have come as a surprise- Cyprus’ history contains some of the earliest records of human-cat relationships. In making a home on this island, they have created a home for me too.
Most days, I get to share small rituals with them, such as playing with those at the bus station and the cafes I usually go to. They are endlessly endearing, but more remarkably, they bring out love between people.
From students coming together to take care of the regular cats at the student dormitories, to the commitment of cat shelters (which depend on donations), these little beings become a center of shared love, deepening friendships and facilitating new connections.
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The Harbor
When I think of the harbor, it is not the restaurants or souvenir shops that come to mind; this is only the money we have made out of the water.
What I feel is a more personal relationship between the sea and I- two elements of the earth. I know the harbor first through sound: the soft static of the waves, the clanking of forks on plates, musicians dissolving in their melodies.
But, I love the harbor through those who made the water feel like a shelter, who created life out of the sea’s vastness. My connection to a place is largely shaped by the memories I’ve made in it, so the harbor has become somewhat of a refuge for me.
It is my place of self-exploration, recalibration, and of shared revitalization with loved ones.
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The Sky
I’ve spent many hours in Pafos gazing up at the sky, so much so that I’ve found a unique kind of companionship.
I think of the sky as a nurturing and graceful presence; I relish in its rain, and revel in its sunsets, bearing witness as it speaks in colors, clouds, and performance.
Watching the sky teaches me more about myself than any journal ever has; I see my regret, forgiveness, and longing reflected back at me. It feels like a conversation, like we are holding one another.
When I can’t sleep, and dawn is near, it is this sky that I turn to, and it listens.
Shifting, brilliant, infinite, the Pafos sky reveals itself as more than a mere background above me, but as my own becoming- changing with every breath, and never the same twice.
