THE GREAT AWAKENING

When I recall the images I saw long ago of the nuclear bombs dropped in Hiroshima and Nakasaki, I remember the terrifying feeling of the stillness they captured. I was in History class, and our teacher was showing us pictures on the overhead projector. The first one was a shadow of two humans that had been burned into the side of a building. The next was of deformed children looking for their family members through unthinkable wreckage. Then, people in hillsides huddled in tiny bomb shelters, waiting.

The silence in our class was stunning, the disgust real, the pit in our stomachs collective as we sat watching more pictures in pure horror. The chill that lingered was one that remains only after the realization that human beings continue to find new ways to kill one another. The survivors will forever warn us — never take our peace for granted. 

Fast forward to life post January 2020. At some point, we all experienced a modern day jolt, a disruption set off by warnings of a novel, deadly virus. The fear of a global pandemic required countries and cities to completely shut down, residents were ordered to stay inside, and for those not in critical condition or deemed an essential worker, watched the spread play out on the endless reel of live news. 

At first, many described the feeling as whiplash, oscillating between genuine fear of getting sick, and an appreciation for the reset and chance to press pause.

Months later, we see that this slowing down was exactly what was needed to expose the actual issues our society is facing.  The lack of live sports and other forms of entertainment have us all tuning into real life. And, as people continue to die and buildings burn, it has me wondering if we will collectively come together, or destroy ourselves once again.

We must expand our definition of love, today. Relationships are fragile, and without love, we will diminish our chances of ever creating sustainable internal or external peace.

Twenty years ago, I read the 1978 novel The Road Less Traveled, written by psychiatrist, Scott Peck. Many may be familiar with the opening sentence, “Life is difficult,” a line so profound and calling that I continued to read, despite the page-long paragraphs and challenging calls for introspection. His 99-paged section on the mystery of love came to a curious conclusion: Love is a choice. A decision requiring work, discipline, and humility. Not a “feeling” with hopes of a fairy tale ending (sorry young readers). Damn.

The book taught me about the difference between falling in love vs. the work of real love, our cultural myth of romantic love, the relationship between enlightenment and real love, how everything boils down to the fear of death, and that all of us are children, despite our age.

As I reread the book today, I realized that we have been far too focused on defining love —and understanding it’s mystery — and instead need to ask ourselves: How do we love?

The sections on love in this blog will range from romantic love, to friendship, to spiritual love, and take the best excerpts and ideas from those who have done their research. Let’s explore this dynamic topic, and do so with the urgency required to escape to a bomb shelter, duck from a COVID-19 cough, or run away from a bullet or fire.

LOVE POSTS