“Love is like oxygen! Love is a many splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love!” – Christian (Ewan McGregor), Moulin Rouge! (2001)
Whenever I think of love, this line from Moulin Rouge! always comes to my mind first, when Christian tells Satine that a life without love is terrible, just before he begins singing to her again. It usually then blends into the beautiful version of All You Need is Love from Across the Universe. My mind tends to do that; blend songs. Isn’t music wonderful?
Music is certainly one of my greatest loves. Though I suppose books would be my first love.
Love is a wildly misunderstood energy, a maelstrom of so many things, and a storm that contains anything and everything, different for all who step willingly into its wild, or are pulled in against their will, unable to resist its power any longer. It’s difficult to learn that if you stay curled up, protecting yourself from the powerful winds, the debris, and all the sounds, you miss it all; you get thrown around without any sense of direction or seeing what’s really happening. But if you release, open, surrender, then you find that within the storm you are given wings, and you can ride those currents, however harsh, to a greater end.
Or perhaps that’s just me being poetic.
Love is a subject touched by many, but not always felt. Described, fantasized, imagined, but often denied, avoided, or doubted. We can write colourful, fanciful ideas of love, but then when Love arrives at our door, we narrow our eyes, hesitate, “Everyone knows you’re not really like that.” And then rejected, dismissed, untrusted, Love steps back from the door. Maybe hovers for a little, but eventually leaves. And as Love comes without warning or invitation, there is no way to know when it may brighten your doorstep again.
Love is present in many a myth, many a story, even more so in songs. Love’s first kiss to break the curse. Love uniting kingdoms. Love changing the world. Love’s tears healing even death. Love conquering all.
There are also those who hold their love in a dark place. Those who abduct their love, those who kill for love, go mad for love, start wars for love. But those of us who’ve danced with love, who’ve felt that true caress, heard that true music, we understand: you do not steal, kill or go mad for love, you do not start wars for love. You steal, kill, go mad and start wars for Fear, hiding behind a mask of Love’s face.
Though as a creature of both light and shadow, I can see where the balance between the two becomes sharp as a knife’s edge. Love may cause the fear that leads to the action, but the foundation of the action still appears as love. One who kidnaps their love fears rejection. One who kills for love may fear the same, or perhaps believe this act will encourage their love to love them in return. Those who go mad for love miss its purpose and purity. And those who start wars perhaps use love as their declaration, though the true driver exists within the folds of layers and layers of fear.
That being said, if the love of my life were in danger, I would absolutely kill to protect them if I had to. Were I the queen of some distant land and my child were taken, you’d better believe there would be war – and I would be leading the charge.
Love gives us great strength and courage when we need it most, and it also gives us so very much to suddenly lose. I wonder if love can exist without the presence of fear. Such as light cannot exist without dark, perhaps love cannot exist without the void of its absence.
My past relationships were full of fear. Fear of not being enough was the umbrella under which all other fears took root: fear of them being upset with me, fear of them being angry with me, being disappointed in me, using me, rejecting me, testing me, humiliating me. Fear of them leaving me. Fear that they would never love me as much as I loved them, if they even loved me at all.
I have none of these fears with my love now. I used to fear not being enough, being tested, being rejected. But I don’t anymore. Because he makes sure I know, ensures I never question. He goes out of his way to tell me always that he loves me, that he believes in me, that I’m beautiful, perfect, and his best friend. And it means everything to me. I feel the same and tell him so. I find myself worrying about disappointing him and hoping I don’t, but it isn’t the same as fearing it. It doesn’t carry the painful acid of fear, simply the tightness of worry. And I can live with that. I never fear our relationship ending because of a fight or a breakup. That thought never crosses my mind.
But there is one fear there, always, hovering in the background, keeping to the shadows, hidden from sight but always whispering, never letting me forget its presence. Like a tiger in such control of its power, you don’t even feel its breath until it’s too late.
No, I do not fear a breakup ending my relationship.
I fear Fate. Destiny. Horrid, horrid happenstance. I fear a moment we cannot reach, cannot touch, cannot hope to control, tearing us apart. And because of that fear, I can understand: fighting, killing, going to war. Because there is nothing I would not do if I thought it could save us. Save him. Save our child.
Such a wild and wicked thing Love is.
Such a blessing. Such a curse. Such a fantasy. Such a maelstrom.
To be stronger than all it touches, yet as fragile as an unexpected final breath.
To give us the power to conquer all, yet take all from us in the span of a gasp.
Love comes with consequence, with challenge, with weight. Love is beautiful in a way so faceted as to be beyond description. As beautiful as a perfectly balanced blade, yet as beautiful as the purity of a baby’s first laugh. As deep as a midnight sky in the middle of the wild, and as harrowing as a tsunami you can see but cannot stop.
Love is the greatest thing we will ever do, and the greatest loss we will ever survive.
Knowing this, I can also understand those who fear Love itself. Is it truly better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? I suppose that depends who you ask.
If my love were ripped from me today, I know the pain would be unimaginable, indescribable, beyond recognition, understanding, or form. It would tear me apart, from the inside out, for years of my life. It would push me to the very edge of my sanity. I know it would. And at the height of that horror, I may wish that it had never happened. That I had never fallen so hard to hurt so magnificently. But I also know, that eventually, one day, one far off day, when the dust had settled, when time had worn the scars to fade, when ivy had overgrown all that remained of what we were…I would see what I could not see before. I would remember his laugh, his smile, his beautiful eyes. The way he became the Sun in my world, my centre of gravity, every star in my sky. And I would breathe a little easier. And I would be grateful. And I would know that having survived the bitterness of his loss, I would do it all again, for those moments of light. Of joy.
Of perfect, perfect love.
Oh, sweet and tragic Love. The expanse of your gift is so great, there is nothing on earth such as its loss.
Love is magick. Love is, truly, the most powerful force in this reality as we know it. And you may roll your eyes at this concept of love conquers all, but those who have felt it, really felt it, know it to be true. Love gives us strength we didn’t know we had. It makes us brave in ways we never imagined. Love gives us a voice in places we were silent, clarity in moments where the chains of our conditioning begin to crack.
Love, given and returned, creates a flow between souls that cannot be replicated. It creates an ease that allows growth, expansion, exploration, and movement. We can evolve together when love supports our connection. Fear keeps us small. But love, love really does lift us up where we belong.
There is love that grows gently, like a rose. Love that grows freely, like a wildflower. Love that grows slowly, like a forest. And there is love that comes all at once, like a storm, frightening us and thrilling us in equal measure. Sometimes it hits us, in the moment we hold a child for the first time. And other times it crashes into us, throwing us into the air, forcing us to learn to fly. Like a twin flame. Like a soul mate. Like love found at last.
When my love holds me close, and whispers to me tales of our future, as if he speaks of our past, as if we’ve lived them before a hundred times, a part of my soul unfurls, and sighs, Finally.
Finally, after two lives already lived, we survived the maelstrom, to find each other at its core.
Magick doesn’t lie. And neither does love. My soul recognized something in his eyes the first time I saw a photo of him. And when we met, that very first time, that very first moment, we didn’t mean to kiss. But we did. And whether it was lightning or butterflies, I cannot say. But my body came alive, from the inside out, in a way she never, ever had before. And I remember thinking in that moment, This is important, this is significant, this means something. And I’ve never forgotten that moment, or what it felt like. Truly, love’s first kiss.
They say when you know, you know. And after many years of experience and heartbreak, I can say that I now know that to be true. I thought I had experienced it before, but I learned that there is quite a difference between Mmm, I like this and This is it.
Love is everything. Love keeps us together, keeps us connected, guides us to make the right choice, even when it’s hard. Love is powerful, magical, and absolutely essential to this human existence. Love changes us, gives us what we didn’t know we needed, opens us in ways we never imagined. This includes loving ourselves, perhaps the most obvious yet painfully difficult relationship of all. When you love yourself, you open. You breathe. You see. And you are able to see the world as well.
Perhaps love is all we need. Perhaps a world built on love would thrive. Perhaps those souls who believed it to be so, the poets and artists and musicians of our time here, were messengers of truth. Perhaps those who believed it so much came too close to changing the world, and so Fear killed them for it. For as we know, those who exist in fear are much easier to control than those encouraged to love.
But love holds power that fear never could.
Dearest Love, thank you, for choosing me. For choosing us. For never wavering, never faltering, and never abandoning. Dearest Love, thank you, for staying, despite those who misunderstand you, try to use you, try to break you. Dearest Love, I hope all come to know you, your true face, your epic magick.
Love may not conquer all, in the end, but it can heal, and nurture, and save. Even just us. If we let it.
Be brave.
Choose love.
And let love choose you, when it comes.
“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn, is just to love, and be loved in return.” – Christian (Ewan McGregor), Moulin Rouge! (2001)
To Love, the greatest thing.
