📝 Dear Love

Dear Love,

I know you're going to laugh at me because I'm such a fucking nerd. I mean, who else tries to pull logic from science to determine the levels of importance between Love, Death and Time? Me—of course. And guess what, Love? You came out on top. Not only are you the most important aspect of my life, you're also the only one that's technically real.

Lets' face it, Death isn't real. It seems like it's real, but it's not. Death is merely a word used to describe a drastic change in existence—when life leaves behind its living form and becomes another miraculous aspect of consciousness.

I know, I know. I've always been one of life's "special" students—someone who is fascinated with the possibility that science was born to help encourage our faith in the unknown. That being said, my intuition (which is your whispering, Love) tells me the Law of Conservation of Energy exists to question our limited perspectives of dying. From this law, we are taught energy can't be created or destroyed, it can only change forms. Since everything in the Universe is energy—including humans—nothing is erased. To have life means to be an aspect of a conscious field of energy. Whole. Indestructible. Evolving. The only possibility for Death in an equation like this is for it to equal change. Death is change.

You adore change, don't you, Love? I bet Death is your way of allowing us to love vulnerably and infinitely. We die or let go, only to be born again in a different form to experience new kinds of love. In fact, I bet Death was created by you, Love. I bet you created Death so the idea of loving forever and always is not just a Hallmark cliché—but the ultimate reality.

And then there's Time. Really smart people like Einstein know "time is an illusion." It's a human concept no other living creature is aware of. Time was created to help man organize and control his environment, but it became a disease of the mind instead. It's a disease because people spend far too much of their lives focusing on the illusion of Time instead of the miracle of the present moment.

Why is it, Love, I sense you also have something to do with Time? Why do I feel as though Time is your way of helping us recognize the difference between stagnation and full awareness? For if we didn't become obsessed with the deceptive memories of the past and illusory thoughts of the future, we'd never truly understand the bliss and magic that waits exclusively in the—right now. Isn't that why right now is referred to as the present moment, Love? It's called the present moment because right now is the only reality in which your gift of love can be actively received instead of merely thought about.

It's been quite entertaining as we've danced together over the years—hasn't it, Love? I think you like toying with my logical side. You've definitely tested my theories on Death by removing cherished relationships from my life—both at the graveyard and in divorce court. You've also tested my understanding of Time as I watch days, months and years pile up due to my inability to bounce back from heartbreak. You're always changing the rules, Love—constantly testing my willingness to achieve a higher level of understanding. And just when I think I've figured you out, you unlock doors to brand new worlds, proving your miraculous'ness is beyond anything I could ever imagine.

But despite my constant faltering as we waltz together, you make us look amazing on the dance floor. You take the lead. I follow with my heart in yours. When I stumble over my two left feet, you catch me. You're always there by my side, Love—maintaining our rhythm and flow—even when I pretend not to notice you standing right in front of me.

You are my world, Love. Everything that's bright and full of light is you. Everything that's dim and full of darkness is the absence of you. You are life and liveliness. You are miracles and serendipities. You are happiness and joy. You are breath and death. You are what exists within and beyond the borders of time. You are everything—including me, Love. That's why when someone asks me to describe who I am, I simply reply, "I am Love."

With Adoration,

Marilyn