More On Loving
We’re back to love. There are lines in a song I like. They say, “I think that love is so much easier than you realize. If you can give yourself to someone then you should.” I like that thought. And when I look back on my life and my loves, I realize that’s pretty much what I’ve done. I just gave myself to someone. Loved them. Of course, it only worked out once, but that turned out really well. And you never know what the future might bring. My father met a wonderful woman in his 80s.
And maybe that’s why, at this point in my life, it’s easy to love a place, like Big Bend and it’s mountains. I can just give myself to it, unabashedly. Love it. And what it gives in return is its beauty and companionship and it’s mysteries. There’s no judgement, no errors to make, no offense to be given. In fact, the mountains aren’t evaluating me at all as a companion. They just sit there, waiting. Nice deal. I’ll never hear them say, “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m busy.”
I think that also answers the question I’ve always had about how solitary people find love. It’s already inside them and they give it to whatever interests them -- family, friends, books, music, life. So, loving, the act, is its own reward, its own source of pleasure. And I guess that further helps explain the satisfaction I find in my gardens, and my books, and my songs. I love doing it. And maybe that’s the entire key to life. Just love doing it.