Well now you are my sun in the morning
And my moon at night
I think about you baby
I feel alright
Now my days grow longer
‘Cause my love grows stronger
And the fever gets worse
And I’ve got the fever for this girl
Springsteen, The Fever
I think it’s a testament to the enduring allure of true love that people are finding and returning to this blog. Now, I have friends who would (and do) say that it is gauche and egotistical to write about oneself in the assumption that others will find you fascinating enough to read about.
I would probably be inclined to agree with that assessment, but then, I’m not really writing about myself; my subject is love. I don’t believe that there’s very much about me at all that others would find in the least bit compelling. No, I only become interesting in any meaningful way when I am standing inside this ‘bubble’.
Love is the great enhancer; love turns the pauper into a prince, the scrooge into a philanthropist, and the dull man into an interesting subject for a blog – Maybe. Love is that which all seek and fear to loose. Love opens the heart, which is the true center of wisdom, and closes the eyes to doubt and self-loathing.
When true love enters our lives, we are transformed. The dour begin to smile; the fearful find courage, and the abused learn trust. It is the rain returning to the desert and the oxygen mask after the fire. There is no force I know to equal the transformative power of love.
And there is no subject more worthy of a writer’s time. Which is why there are so very many songs, poems, novels and yes, blogs dedicated to the subject. Love is sacred as all trusts are sacred. Love is kind and the foundation stone of every single life.
Some would argue every point I’ve made in this post, but I stand by my words. In fact, the above represents my life’s philosophy. Even when I wasn’t very good at it, I believed in love above all else. Talent is wonderful, creativity is essential, but all things must ultimately give way to love.
Who would even wish to be the most celebrated artist in all the world, but be without love in their life? What would be the use of public accolades if, when you returned home in the evenings, it was to an empty house?
I’m sure some will disagree with that sentiment, but I know Jersey girl wouldn’t. She sympathises completely with my philosophy; how could she not when she herself feels exactly the same way?
Images used in this post are mine.