Love is not a victory march

Christmas. So much of it is about giving and receiving. Essentially, in the best case scenario: About loving and being loved. And all the joy, risks, confusion, and pain that comes with that. Goes much deeper than anything else in life. It goes under your skin and straight to that place between heart and kidney, where all the hope, suffering, and satisfaction sits and warms and hurts. Yes, that place. Love kills and makes us, makes me, feel alive again, at the same time. How weird.

Life and death. The manger and the cross. Love being manifested because of these two. Or, as a prophet and a poet have put it:

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” John

“Love is not a victory march; it’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah.” Leonard

No receiving without giving. No true giving without sacrifice. No warm Hallelujah without the empty tomb.

Merry Christmas.

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The Clandestine Banalities of Love

Some things need to remain secret in order to remain.

Some things, dragged into the gaze of more than two people, loose their beauty.

Some things, whispered or yelled into the ears of more than one person, become a clanging cymbal.

Some things, smelled by the multitude, turn from fragrance to stench.

Some things, tasted by more than four lips, transform savor into sourness.

Some things, felt by other skin than the familiar, loose the magnificence of touch.

These things are the big and little and ridiculous banalities that bring plenty to my life with you, my love to you, and your love to me.

They belong to us – or they are not.

(A.K. Sept 2014)