All there is...

The Beatles sang that all we need is love, the boy thought, but I would take it a step further and say ‘all there is, is love’…

The train rushed from one station to another, leaving the sun-caressed fields of wheat behind. The unstoppable dance of colours stroking the irises of the boy who settled in his seat was typing on the laptop. He gazed outside in awe; in love for the natural scenery and beautifully painted world, which existed without any particular reason but thanks to the mere possibility of being. The clouds splashed their fluffy bodies in the turquoise sky imposing shades of contrast across the rural horizon. With the window shut tight, the boy was unable to hear much over the whizz of the friction-opposing train. The vehicle swayed softly from time to time, otherwise going straight with an attitude worthy of a great adventure-seeker, one of courage and confidence, which pulls their companions together and motivates their strength of heart. A heart, he pondered, is this where the love resides…?

*

His appreciation for the experience was rather ‘out there’, since the majority of the senses focused on the sensations outside one’s body. The beautiful scent, the lush view, and the comforting touch were but a few out of many expressions of one’s appreciation for the world around them. But there was also this internal feeling, this inner voice, this emotion of peace and arriving, however weird it may sound. The love. According to some, situated somewhere between the heart and the mind. According to others, an impalpable illusion. According to the boy, a very strange, profound, and powerful expression of the inner desire manifested, fulfilled, or experienced outwardly. An adventure. Sitting in front of the screen, which so often allowed him to forget of the outside world, the boy typed out the few sentences of a ‘warm up’ writing and realised the flowing juices of creativity lingering across his scull’s insides. He grew focused. Aware of the zooming world outside the window, he allowed his gaze to soften and rest gently on the words formulated within his spirit. He heard the few sentences of recognition aimed at the beautifully spent time away with like-minded people a few days back. Can one feel love for a stranger…?

*

Considerate of the expectations, which are laid out on one’s life whenever one joins in the dance of the society, the boy thought of the invitations to ‘love others’ and ‘love thy neighbour’ recognising the valuable openness within these, often undermined by the majority, words. It was obvious for him that whoever one is, wherever one comes from, and whatever one believes, there is no harm in assuming that the person one meets is as great and valuable, as beautiful and worthy, as unique and virtuous as oneself. And even if these assumptions were to be proven wrong, sharing a loving attitude with another being for the sake of spreading positivity, which was so much needed in the world full of sorrow, was in itself a good enough reason to do so. The boy nodded his head slightly as if his subconscious agreed with the concluded terms of acting out the believed values. A subtle smile arrived at his face and stayed there brightening the corners of his eyes. Thinking back to the unique event he had the chance to participate in, which placed a bunch of strangers from all over Europe in one place for over three days, he sighed out softly. It was a wonderful experience, his mind agreed. He thought of the perspectives, which the members of this conference had the opportunity to share with one another and quickly came to realise that there was nothing that could facilitate and provoke such an open, safe space of shared knowledge as the emotion of loving-kindness – a gift to one another. Without this sense of empathy and acceptance, which flowed freely from the heart of every participant, there would be no space for honest discussion, genuine expression, and vulnerability. Without it, the whole event would be as hollow and superficial as the pre-election political debate hosted on TV. And the boy did not like this kind of debate at all. Hearing a little chuckle of distraction creeping up his throat, he brought the mind back to the love-focused discourse and pondered upon the relationship between the subject and the object of such emotion. Sometimes they are both one, he murmured.

*

Taking self-love apart, he observed the paradox surrounding such a phenomenon. One was both the subject and the object, the lover and the loved, and through this two-sided experience one was whole. Such consideration drove the boy to theorise about the nature of feeling ‘whole’ and suggested only one true-to-evidence solution. It was rather certain that in order to feel ‘whole’ one had to love oneself truly. This simple idea, which people do not necessarily think or remember, became the starting point for outward love. After all, he pondered, how could one share the love with another, if they didn’t have it in the first place…? It was a mindboggling exercise to think about these things and taken aback by his lack of expertise about the feeling of love in its essence, the boy looked out the window and took a deep breath. Confused about the true source of such love, he decided to leave the subject on the shelf of his mind and turned back to the page. It was what he knew. It was what he understood. Sitting upright in front of the screen filled with words was what made his perception narrow and his heart slow down. It was what made his heart love. Suddenly stricken by the light of understanding, at least to the degree one can understand oneself, he took out the notebook and wrote down the two sentences of appreciation for this instant enlightenment. The words glimmered on the lined surface with the message of their meaning sketched out by the boy’s mind.

Whatever we do as beings is out of love for something, whether living or inanimate, whether physical or impalpable, whether already manifested or only imagined. Whatever we do, we do out of love.

He looked at the words for a moment, thought of the many situations that initially suggested the opposite, and quickly realised they too would prove the appropriateness of such theory. Whatever one did at any given time, it was out of love for something. More often than not out of love for oneself. But that’s okay – he reassured himself. He pondered on the cultural appreciation for love and its understanding in the contemporary. He remembered a song he often listened to with his friends while living together and pondered on the idea conveyed in its words. The Beatles sang that all we need is love, the boy thought but I would take it a step further and say ‘all there is, is love’… Paying little attention to the outside world, he got back to writing. He allowed his mind to pursue whatever strand of thought it wanted to and relaxed into the uncertain, adventurous feeling of discovery. At that moment, he was doing what he adored. He was creating something out of nothing. He was making love.

If you liked this story, check out:

Music of the Mind (wsalski.com)

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