Is it madness to love?
Or is it madness to not love at all?
Is it madness to have loved, lost, and decide you’re never doing that again?
I’ve seen all of these things to varying degrees, sometimes to alarming extremes.
I still say, love. There is no better cure, there is no better drug, there is no better way of expressing who you truly are than to approach the world with love. We start out this way, all innocent, and it seems to me that the minute we establish “DIFFERENT”, which happens very early on the playground, we can become savage little beasts that tear one another apart. In all kinds of creative ways Hell never dreamed of. Some people never leave the playground. Other people realize that the playground was false to begin with. It is partially through differences that we define ourselves, but we should not use differences as a means to hate.
The world doesn’t make it easy sometimes.
I think that’s one of the ultimate challenge of being human-how do you be yourself, and love yourself, and love others in a world full of sorrows? How do you love those you hate you? How do you keep wearing your heart on your sleeve, but have enough sense to protect it?
I swear to you, one of the ways is by paying attention to good things. Practicing gratitude once daily eventually becomes a lifestyle where you see so much to be grateful for, despite sorrows and terrors, that you have actively chosen happiness.
It’s Friday. Dance. Be grateful. Smile. Know you are loved.
PS: This happened to my hand today, in between coloring with kids in therapy, and teaching adults on the whiteboard. I don’t really mind the decorations.