A friend and I were talking recently about love. About our failures. And we agreed that it was because we weren’t able to love. That we went in expecting to be admired, approved of, paid attention to. If that met our unconscious requirements, all was well. If it didn’t––well. I never paid attention to the spiritual. When I was young, I just wanted to love and be loved by another. But when I say love, I had a boundary. I went as far as he went. Seldom further. It took me a long time to realize that another could not be all. That he would fail, make mistakes, be afraid himself. My friend and I have decided that a wonderful goal for our old age is to grow our hearts.
A haiku from Houston’s windy, overcast, wonderfully mild winter day….
wind high, gong ringing,
pulling me deeper into
the heart’s deep blue sea