Let us Make Love Mean Life

One cannot be without the other

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Photo by Kristine Weilert on Unsplash

The singular plural can only be written about in terms so opaque you would have had to have been there to understand them.

And since opaque means open to interpretation, the more vague you are, the more relatable and universal your discourse.

My life is yours under different parameters, a variation of a common theme we all share; when variations intersect, we connect. Mutual curiosity inspires trust, similarities in outlook deepen it even though we often skip the first step.

If you believe what I believe then it has to be truth.

We do not discuss how we reached that conclusion because it is self-evident: love.

We dispense from naming it altogether.

The connection is organic and needn’t question itself because it restored balance amid an environment that was askew.

It is a steady force field that protects and fortifies the heart, transcending fears with evidence, a continuum of concern and care.

It feels as familiar as it feels alien. The reinstatement of what should be when it hasn’t been for so long you can’t remember what it feels like constitutes disruption.

Because evolution sometimes moves backwards. Upon meeting kindred spirits, it can restore us back to factory settings, back to when we were children curious about everything.

Back to when we were actively learning about life rather than convinced we had it all figured out.

To trust in how little you know is an act of faith, an emotional downpayment on anticipated joy, an investment into our personal growth.

It is also a form of humility that grants the heart complete control over the mind, anchoring intellectual stimulation to emotion.

This is how some of us become experiment and discovery addicts.

Creativity is how we chase our next high, persistence in the face of adversity is routine; we are champions of “What if?” type questions.

Our mental meanderings take different routes but arrive at the same destination. Our hearts feed on different stimuli but produce the same love; they have different notes but are in the same key.

Life is a song.

Love.

That emotion that is at the root of everything that gives life meaning to you is what we’re all after. Some of us call it fame, some of us call it fortune, some of us call it family because all of us humans belong to the same species.

A sapiens looking at another sapiens reveling in the subtle art of dialogue and discourse both in person and in print. This describes most of the people wjp make up the internet even if we won’t readily admit to our voyeuristic tendencies about how other humans do human.

Deep down, we’re actually fond of one another and wishing none of our peers ill will when we remember to reclaim our ability to care on a one-to-one basis.

The singular plural is the stuff of all human connections, it always start with a moment when two or more interpretations of humanness align.

If you believe what I believe then I see myself in you.

We do not discuss how we reached that conclusion because it is self-evident: love.

We dispense from naming it altogether.

I’m a French-American writer, journalist, and editor living out of a suitcase in transit between North America and Europe. To continue the conversation, follow the bird. For email and everything else, deets in bio.

The human condition is not a pathology・👋ASingularStory[at]gmail・ ☕️ https://ko-fi.com/ASingularStory

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