“When all has turned to dust – all that is left is love.”
On The Journey we took a glancing look at love and got timely advice from a lifestyle blogger. LISTEN:
Now, some places are allowed a singular season. A searing heat. A bitter cold. Or a balmy breeze. A singular season. All year round.
And some people live where there are two seasons: a dry season and a wet season; a warm season then a not-so-warm season; a shivering season soothed by a swift break to brace for a newer set of whistling winds, which often seems not that much different from the previous bristling blast.
Two seasons.Many people thrive in these two seasons, so much so many will choose never to leave.
Two seasons – just perfect for the soul.
Two seasons – enough to plumb the depths of old.
Not much of a chance for ADHD here, it’s a place to dream, a space to fight the delusion; there are many chances to win and much room to maneuver; one can ride this way forever and listen to the breeze.
However, it is not this way everywhere. We are on The Journey, traveling through places having one season, and some having two, and some having Four. Yes, four!
We meet fine folks that have experienced them all or each to the full. Winter. Spring. Summer. Fall. Four seasons of Love. And some reach them all having not moved but a rock’s throw from where it all started to flow. Fascinating! Simply fascinating. Isn’t it?
How do you measure it? Four Seasons Of Love? Come, travel with us. We’ll meet some wonderful people with winning smiles and warm hearts. We’ll meet jackasses too. And roaches. And rats. And gorgeous scenery streaming with tweeting birds – sweet, provided you’re careful not to stand too long under their trees.
Meet someone special.
Hop this way too. Meet one of my very special students.
I got a text from him yesterday. ‘Can I come over? Around 8? Let’s catch-up on how you’re doing.’
I knew what he was really saying is: I want to bring you up to speed on how I’m doing . . . not good.
8:00PM. Knock on the door.
Click. Squeak. Hugs.
‘I’m really confused. I don’t know what to do.’ He says then sits.
‘What’s the problem?’
‘I’m suppose to graduate in three months and I don’t know what I’m going to do. Where should I live? Where am I going to work?”
‘What do you want to …’
‘Maybe, I’m thinking, I should not try to graduate this semester. I can’t study right now. I’m so confused.’
‘You remember the girl I introduced you to when we went to practice?’
‘Yes. The very beautiful one, who wouldn’t take her hands off you.’
‘I’m in love with her. I mean I’m really-really in love with her. This is not like any of the other girls. I really love her. I can’t concentrate. I haven’t done any homework. When we’re together time stops. We’ve been together five months and last week she made the big step and break up with her fiance, because she loves me. That’s a big step. We’re in love. So close! We are so close. I don’t want to graduate right now.’
‘I’m so confused.’
‘So you say you’re in love with her.’
‘Yes. Yes. When we’re together is so romantic. We can’t keep our hands off each other. Even after sex we stay in bed and watch each other’s face and kiss for hours, but it’s just like if it’s ten minutes. We kiss a lot. It’s not any time at all. And now she broke up with her finance. I mean he is rich and nice and offered her everything. Is like he just wanted to buy her. She loves me. That’s why she breaks up with him. She loves me. I love her too. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to lose her. What if she wants to go back to Sweden? I mean I don’t mind going to Sweden with her. I really don’t want to lose her.’
‘Is this love burdening you or boosting you?’
‘Why you ask that?’
Let’s check out the brain in love. And, yes, make sure you hear one of the most – if not the most – romantic poem I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing and reciting. Uh!
Ay-yai-yai! Is it getting hot in here?
Now that, at least, we’re on the same wavelength about this thing we’re calling love – this beautiful thing – now that we’re about to embark on this journey through our four seasons of love, can I ask you this: which season of love are you in?