It's the feeling of a fiery sunset as it quickly moves from an explosion of orange through a slow fade of pink to eventual dusk that gives way to night's first stars. It's autumn with her earthy yellows, reds, and oranges hanging on to branches before they fall to the ground for winter. Conversely, the soft and colourful buds and blooms of spring that must, absolutely must, wither to allow the newest green growth.
Fleeting. That's part of the enigmatic word/feeling. These things are all fleeting and temporary.
This WORD approaches these things we admire so much and borders an obsessed desire to want to have them forever, nearly be them. We see a magic so divine that every part of our being becomes enthralled and we can't help but to want to possess it. Yet we know this is no more possible than prolonging these moments. It's entirely impossible no matter how you spin it. These moments will always be fleeting, temporary and never yours to have for keeps.
This appreciation, this deeply seeing something for all that it is, without the need to make it mine, that is what this WORD means. The release of any desperate need to try making it last for even a second longer than the moment it was meant to be, THAT is the understanding.
So I think to myself, "There must be a word for this, and when I find it the word probably means the same thing as Love..."
Love, that's what it is. The feeling of a sunset, of changing seasons, of beautiful moments of seeing and being seen.
Life is no more permanent than the collection of fleeting moments it's made up of. The practice is to drink in all the beauty, grace and pure magic of those moments/people/experiences without grasping them. Allowing them to pass along so we don't tear and ruin their gentle and sacred beauty. The recent magic of my world has been a long battled embracing of this, an acceptance of the fact that all things are temporary, from the most beautiful to the most terrible. This doesn't mean we live in a cold what's-the-point world. Quite the opposite-it's a world of constant magic. Unbelievable and unexpected happenings over and over in brand new forms.
So why cling to one variation or manifestation? Would you even try to cling to one sunset? Look and see it, the unpredictable change of colours that eventually moves along for sunrise to gracefully peak through. Why cling? If you could hold a single sunset forever, would you? Could you live knowing you missed the opportunity to witness a million more?
I'm not saying love something and then toss it away. Rather love those moments fully and completely, but without trying to keep it, so when the moments inevitably grow into new ones, you can allow it as painlessly as the night sky is filled with day.
...and this is Love.