Love, by the way, is not all hugs and backrubs. Primarily, I think, love is a prank. To borrow a theme I’m developing in my third novel: Love is a prank played on the ego by the spirit to teach the ego the one thing that it does not want to learn. In my own life, I’ve been scalded by love, and I’ve even been so tough boots as to believe that I needed to protect my heart. But as a result of my accidental contemplation of courage, I realized — or I remembered — that the heart is made of love, and love is indestructible, and only the cowardice of ego would presume that it requires protection. Actually, love is the only force capable of overcoming the ego, and so the ego would naturally like to avoid this prank, never having to learn to give up control. Courage is simply allowing this vulnerability, embracing the uncertainty, accepting that we may be hurt, yes, that it won’t always be easy, and that not only can we take it, but that we actually have no idea how much we can take. In this “Age of Uncertainty,” courage necessarily means being true to one’s heart, stepping towards a future uncertain rather than securing oneself to a predictable past. Courage is without caution, it is passion, it is a fleeing from security and into synchronicity. A flower growing through a crack in a rock, courage abandons the familiar and secure shell which protects us — and limits us — and dares us to emerge, to grow, and to trust that life will nurture us despite its challenges.

This expansion of consciousness is necessarily the reduction of ego, and is there anything more expansive than the feeling of love? It is not uncommon for lovers to recount the synchronicities of their meeting, to recognize a strangely inevitable magic in their rendezvous, and such magic is only the beginning, a dim glimmer of a spectacular sunrise, patient as we find our courage, tender as we surrender, daring us to give, to forgive, to reside more fully in our heart, to remember that we are never alone, and ultimately to realize that we are nothing if we are not servants to one another. It is love that erodes our ramparts, that relieves us of our armor, that tames the teeth protecting our trauma, and it is love that will heal us all the moment we have the courage to face the magic.

This is what I believe more than anything, and this is what gives me hope.

May you be ever overwhelmed by how many people you love.

by tony vigorito

para alexis


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