day twenty: love
We are all part of a vast sea of love, one indivisible divine mind.
-Marianne Williamson
I started working in the AIDS clinic of Saint Vincent’s Hospital when I was 20. It was 1993, the peak of the AIDS epidemic. The hospital was overwhelmed with dying patients, and we were unprepared. On the worst days, one patient would die, and then our beepers would beckon us to the bedside of another. No break in between. On those days, there were two things that would replace the crushing grief that filled my lungs: I’d take the elevator up to the nursery and stare at newborn babies or I’d walk a block to the pet store and watch puppies play.
I’d breathe out pain and breathe in love. I’d breathe out fear and breathe in more love. Only then would my chest expand. I hear a lot of teachers and thought leaders talking about how we need to move from fear to love, especially right now, and I agree. You might agree too but may be caught up in the question of how. How do you love when there’s pain and suffering? How do you love in the face of so much fear? And then you might go existential and ask questions like—what is love?
Fear has to be fed. But love, love is our natural state of being. And the more you give away, the more expansive it gets.
While living in LA, I learned that succulents are the one type of plant I can care for. They don’t require much know-how, and so I planted tons of them, and for years we thrived together. When I left the west coast, I mourned leaving them. I gave away as many as I could. A friend came by and took tiny clippings. Recently I got a surprise text from him. Two years later, they now fill his terrace. The jade and the sticks on fire. The echeveria elegans and burro’s tail. The aloe and the portulacaria afra. This parting gift created life of its own. And I’m told by my neighbors that the original plants are bigger than ever. There was more than enough for everyone.
People are afraid to be around the dying, but the dying are often masters. They give away their love like succulent clippings. They taught me how to let go of what doesn’t matter. For them, the everyday stuff they worry about evaporates. Regret and indecision wither. Shame and grudges, gone. Petty arguments and misunderstandings, irrelevant. They don’t worry about how they look. Or what they’ve accomplished. So, with all that shedding, what’s left? Love. Love is what’s left. Love is what remains. The dying told me love is what matters.
Spoiler Alert: You and everyone you love will die someday. Don’t wait till the wisdom and urgency of death or dying are upon you—do your loving now. And do it BIG!
Reflective Journal Prompts
When you’re contracted, compressed or in fear, what brings you back to a state of love?
Cornel West said, Never forget that justice is what love looks like in public. Write about what love looks like on a national or global level. If countries loved their citizens the way you love your children, what would they do differently?
Discussion Prompts
Talk about how your idea of love has changed over the course of your life. For children, ask them what love is and where they feel it in their bodies.
Suggested Actions
Watch this short video. Observe what happens to the love you feel in your heart.
Watch this short video. Consciously work on expanding the force of love you feel.