What is Love?

"The words of Jesus, “Love one another as I have loved you,” must be not only a light for us but a flame that consumes the self in us. Love, in order to survive, must be nourished by sacrifices, especially the sacrifice of self. Love, to be real, must cost—it must hurt—it must empty us of self."

--Mother Theresa 

“I love you, mother,” said little John;

Then, forgetting his work, his cap went on,

And he was off to the garden swing,

Leaving his mother the wood to bring.

“I love you, mother,” said rosy Nell;

“I love you better than tongue can tell;”

Then she teased and pouted full half the day,

Till her mother rejoiced when she went to play.

“I love you, mother,” said little Fan;

“To-day I’ll help you all I can;

How glad I am that school doesn’t keep!”

So she rocked the babe till it fell asleep.

Then, stepping softly, she fetched the broom,

And swept the floor, and dusted the room;

Busy and happy all day was she,

Helpful and happy as a child could be.

“I love you, mother,” again they said—

Three little children going to bed;

How do you think that mother guessed

Which of them really loved her best?

--Joy Allison, “Which Loved Best?” 

(McGuffey’s Third Eclectic Reader, 1879, 146–47)  

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Sonnet II

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied

Who told me time would ease me of my pain!

I miss him in the weeping of the rain;

I want him at the shrinking of the tide;

The old snows melt from every mountain-side,

And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;

But last year's bitter loving must remain

Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide!

There are a hundred places where I fear

To go, -- so with his memory they brim!

And entering with relief some quiet place

Where never fell his foot or shone his face

 I say, "There is no memory of him here!"

And so stand stricken, so remembering him!

--Edna St. Vincent Millay 

Renascence and Other Poems, 1917

  

It’s kind of odd that this is one of my most favorite poems, since I have never experienced such a loss. I mean, I have experienced the deaths of extended family members, but nothing like the next-level kind of loss that is expressed in the poem. I can’t even imagine the depths of the pain of losing someone I’ve actually lived with or formed those inner-circle bonds with; like a best friend, a parent, a spouse, or - Heaven forbid - a child. I have felt an inkling of the bottomless grief second hand through close friends and family who have lost inner-circle loved ones, but that is nowhere near the same as actually experiencing that kind of loss, I’m sure.

I think I just love the poem because it articulates the multifaceted anguish so vividly that I can almost feel it. Not that I want to feel it; I’m just moved that a collection of words can open my heart to emotions deeper than I could fathom before I read them, and give me more compassion toward those who are trying to navigate the perilous depths of sorrow.

It makes me feel more connected to humanity. I feel more connected to God. I feel more replete with love to give to those who ache. Even if I can only faintly grasp the shallows of that pain, I am more willing to wade as deep as I can to mourn with anyone suffers there.

I feel more.

I feel…more.

And that’s why I love this poem.

Ocean Air

In honor of my 100th post, I'm going to break the quoting-other-people mold and wax poetic for a minute. I wrote the following poem because I looked up into the sky one day and saw an airplane that looked like a whale at first glance. It got me thinking about how the sky looked like the ocean and what can I say? The thought inspired me. I know it's totally amateur, but I hope you enjoy it.

Ocean Air

Gaze up to a sea of delicate blue

That billows and swells to horizon.

White froth floats by

On the breath of a sigh

The current stirs among the blades.

Is that a creature that floats on the breeze?

It drifts as if suspended by string.

A slow, gentle giant

With bountiful eye

That shines amid glint of the light.

What is this liquid that blows in my hair;

The tempest that tears at my clothes?

What is the flood

That streams from above

And swells and crests at my feet?

It is the air of the ocean deep;

The tears of innumerable stars.

The wind that blows by,

The aircraft that fly

And the showers that break on the sand.

--Melissa McGowan

True Wealth

Wealth is not the things we own–
A stately house upon a hill,
Paintings, rugs and tapestries,
Or servants taught to do one’s will.
In luxury, a man may dwell,
As lonely as in a prison cell.

Wealth is not a plenteous purse,
The bonds that one has stored away,
A boastful balance in a bank,
Or jeweled baubles that fools display.
The things that really gratify
Are things that money cannot buy.

Wealth is health, and a cheerful heart,
An ear that hears the robin’s song,
A mind content, some treasured friends,
And fragrant memories lingering on.
Living is an inward art–
All lasting wealth is in the heart!

--Alfred Grant Walton

Desiderata: "Desired Things"

I'm posting a very sage poem today. It was written in 1927 by American writer Max Ehrmann (1872-1945) and is entitled Desiderata, which means "Desired Things" in Latin. It was largely unknown in the author's lifetime but became widely known after a St. Paul's Church in Baltimore, Maryland included it as a hymn in a compilation of devotional materials sometime around 1959. You can go up to youtube and listen to it set to music, but I thought the music detracted too much from the message, so I decided not to post it. 

I'll make my favorite parts bold. Feel free to share your favorite part(s) in the comments. Enjoy!

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

--Max Ehrmann