These are words about love.
We all possess it.
It is infinite.
It is completely free.
We always have love. We may just not know it all the time.
One thing folks ask themselves when they get divorced is, "Will I ever be loved again? Will I ever find love again?" And, truth be told, you're probably saying this to yourself or surrounded by girlfriends in heaving sobs with snot running down your nose while they go fetch you another glass of wine.
It is a rip-your-own-heart-out kinda feeling, empty, devoid of worth.
It is screaming silence.
But once you have completed that indulgence of tomfoolery of feeling sorry for yourself, you need to think about what the essence of love truly is, and what you are asking for.
Our mindset, as humans, is to want to meet, love, procreate, and envision ourselves walking down the sidewalk with some old codger after tying the knot 50 years ago. Couples even put it on their headstones as a testament to their lives.
And let's face it, some marriages ain't so happy. A few of those tombstones might be better served carved with something like, "I stuck with this SOB for 50 years, and all I got was this lousy tombstone."
Few people get married and think, if it doesn't work out, we'll just get divorced.
But sometime that whole soulmate thing doesn't work out for some of us.
This is our opportunity to rethink the definition of love. Why does our preconception with romantic love have to dictate our very being? Humans make the words. We can also redefine the words.
What if we all decide to become Human Prisms spreading a rainbow full of light and love in all directions?
Being a human prism certainly sounds more enjoyable than becoming a black hole in the sphincter of life.
I believe we are all capable of becoming human prisms. If you're a nerd like me, you know that Sir Isaac Newton, (He is the apple gravity dude.) is the scientific mind that enlightened us to prisms where white light goes in one end, and the spectrum of primary colors comes out the other.
If you are a hip nerd, then it's also the cover of Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon album.
Now, just go with me for a second on this philosophical blip about how you can be a human spectrum. (seriously)
The white light represents what we conceived love to be, one color, one soulmate. The spectrum of light at the other end is what it can be, a color for your children, one for yourself, another for your friends, and as many colors of love that you are willing to give.
But you have to put it in practice.
I hug the cheese sample lady at my grocery store. We have that relationship now, though I don't know her name. I halted my truck in the middle of a parking lot to embark on a hug break with a friend of mine. I cup elementary school children's faces in my hands and love them with only a smile and the joy in my heart.
I hope I am a living prism. There is no depth of reason why we can't and shouldn't be. I think, sometimes, we are our greatest inhibitors from experiencing joy and love. Why would we want to perpetuate continued sadness, when we can have joy?
Once you are done feeling sorry for yourself -- which you have every right to do -- grieve, get it out, scream, then think about love again and refract it in different directions.
Shine your light, so that everyone can see it. If you exhibit love, you will receive it in return. Maybe you'll find your real soulmate, dunno.
Even if you don't, you will have lived a joyful life on your end of the spectrum.
And wouldn't that be wonderful?
(Enriching music: "I Can See Clearly Now" -- Johnny Nash, a Texan)