“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.
