Love/war

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It’s quiet in my corner of Salt Lake City today. A soft blanket of snow from the first real storm of the winter paints my whole neighborhood in the perfect picture of the season. I’ve missed it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fair share of fresh snow up in the mountains, but to have it weighing down the prayer flags and tree branches in my backyard is a special kind of gift. My bedroom is cool and bright, and I’m watching incense smoke curl gently around the feathers of the dreamcatcher hanging on my window.

Today, I feel the love.

Last night, we filled my house with people that we like and blanketed them in pink and blue light and groovy sounds from our friend’s first live set as a DJ. As the night wound down, and the stragglers lay lazy, sleepy, laughing, and eating homemade cookies, I leaned on a strong leg and felt warmth like I haven’t felt in a long time.

I feel the love. Soft, quiet, gentle, and bright.

There is a lesson in this.

Since moving to Utah, I’ve reflected many times over what enough looks like for me. Over the last few weeks especially, I’ve felt myself raising my sword and screaming battle cries at the open sky - but the slow breeze just raises its eyebrows at me, because there’s no war to wage. Living isn’t a fight. Loving isn’t a fight.

Loving isn’t a fight.

I’ve claimed for some years now to be a warrior of love. I have known myself to be a revolutionary, but of what? For what am I fighting?

Today, in the calm of the blizzard and the watercolor stains on my hands, my higher self smiles patiently at me as I pause wide-eyed in understanding.

Loving isn’t a fight.

Love is not a battlefield. Love is not like a war. I am not a soldier.

I don’t have to paint my face and arm myself for love. I don’t have to give or receive orders for love. I’ve imagined myself becoming a general, leading an army of warriors of love like myself, pictured myself standing before them with a fist in the air and howling at the sky as they join me in my fight - but the metaphor doesn’t actually make any sense.

Loving isn’t a fight.

Relax back into the arms of the present moment, and find that love is there. Gently step deeper into the darkest corners of your Self, and use love as the candle to illuminate all of your truths. Rub your eyes and blink at the light of love that is blindingly brilliant and radiating from every atom of your being. Imagine what could be possible if you allow for the possibility that love is who you are at your core?

I offer this to you because in this moment, I am realizing that I’ve had it all wrong. I have a fire spirit, and so I imagined that there must be ferocity in all that I do and in all that I am. I think now that this has been a belief that’s been holding me back. I am always geared up and ready for a fight. I always have a flash in my eyes, and my tongue is sharp, and I’ve prided myself on that. But I’ve been playing tug of war with the universe. The universe doesn’t care, of course. It just keeps dragging me along as I dig my heels in deeper and snarl, thinking I’m so powerful for resisting the pull. The universe says to me, “come this way, there’s love here,” and I cackle and stubbornly resist, thinking that I know better. I’m a fighter, after all, and I won’t be dragged anywhere against my will.

But loving isn’t a fight.

Dear one, you are worthy of love - of every kind. It is already everywhere in your life. You need not fight it, nor fight for it. Relax into it. Open your eyes and your heart to it. Fear not.

I’m rooting for you.

Lovingly yours,
Spencer

P.S. If you're wondering what kind of love I'm talking about, it's the limitless kind. Don't box it. Let it be broad, all-encompassing. You'll thank me later.