Last week I asked you to do one thing. Find your Love. Think about it, sit with it, write it down. I hope you did. If not, it’s okay. The great thing about your life is it’s yours, and if then wasn’t the right moment, make Now the right moment. I mean, you’re sitting here reading this. In the time it could take you to finish this post, you could have a whole new life goal determined. You could be so invigorated with motivation you march right off this screen and into life. In that case, hell yes! Keep it moving, sweet being!
If you’re not feeling quite so fiesty, that’s all good. You’ve come to the right place.
We still have some things to work on, anyways.
Do you have your Love yet? Is it snuggled up besides you, lazily asking you just what do you expect it to do? Good. That means you found one with some tude, and those are the best. Before we go any further I need you to look at this Love of yours. Stare this passion down. Wiggle it in your fingers, lift it above your head. Throw it against the wall, roll it down the stairs. Wrestle this Love. Then hold this Love. Listen to it, ask it if it’s okay. Tell it a terrible joke, see if it laughs. Make sure this Love is YOUR LOVE.
See, for a long time I thought I had met my Love. I brought it everywhere with me. Pulled it out at parties, showed it off saying “see this, this is what I’m going to do.” People would ooh and aah or snort. It didn’t matter. My Love and I were tight, and I told myself it would stay that way. I was pretty sure my Love was the one for me. I had picked it, I hadn’t let anybody tell me which one was best. It had to be true, right?
Wrong. Somewhere I had gotten my Love and my Goals mixed up. Now, Goals are cool and all. Very useful for making plans. Except my Goals kept popping in my life, snickering at how little I was getting done, always poking fun at me. Here I was thinking my Goals were my Love and I couldn’t understand why they kept treating me so wrong. Eventually we broke up, and then I just hung around. No Goals, no Love, just lost.
Until one day I was feeling sulky, and I started writing about all the things I wanted. I wrote a couple of different lists, a couple of different times. Things like a functioning car, all of the cats, endless money, some new jeans popped up. They seemed important, especially the cats. Only they were always at the end of my list. Things like, a job I love, making sure my friends and family know I love them, completing my bucket list. Those stayed on the top. Again and again. Slowly I started to see my life, to have a haphazard idea of the “important stuff”. Not your typical important stuff, not someone else’s idea of success. My own strange, vague stuff. Then I got to writing about that, and then I figured it out. This weird idea is my Love.
What is my Love? Well, it’s hard to explain, and I feel silly telling people about it. But I think an example is necessary. My Love is to live my life seeking out all of the love. I want to do the things I love and I want to love the things I do. I want to give up bad habits that break me from the beauty of life, I want to commit to the good habits, to the things that make me happy like a wolf brutally on the hunt. I want to wake up and when I am sad, cry and when I am happy, cry. I want to move mountains with this illogical passion that I have spent so many years burying in fear. I want to give myself to the world, completely.
I wasn’t lying when I said it didn’t make sense. I know it’s stupid simple. Isn’t there some cheesy line about the truth being like that? And I will tell you, after figuring this out, it’s been a helluva lot easier to get out of bed in the morning.
This wasn’t what I meant to type in this post. Still, I think it’s the right thing. A life passion isn’t something to take lightly (not all the time, at least). As much as you may feel ready to jump at the throat of life and take it down, maybe you should take just one more minute of self relfection. The knitty gritty will still be waiting tomorrow. Your Lovd deserves a little more of your attention. It is, after all, the most important stuff.