Some would say they understand.
That it is not uncommon—
a word overused
because no other word
will do.
People walking past us
might have seen us holding hands.
They might have known
there was love.
Yet they would not understand—
the miraculous experience
of her hand in mine
as we walked by the ocean.
They would not understand
the moments—
physical, emotional—
signifiers of something worthy
of belief.
When we sat side by side,
facing the waves,
hearing them crash,
seeing them—
moved by something unseen—
our bodies were touching.
The best analogy I have
is electricity:
signals moving
at each point of contact.
This was not merely
physical,
not merely biological,
not merely emotional
or chemical.
No.
I have felt passion before.
But rarely—so rarely—
have I felt love.
How many times have I
mistaken one for the other?
How many times
has the emptiness remained
after meaningless encounters?
That core Self within me,
always ready for connection,
was never fulfilled—
until now.
Waves of excitement, peace,
serenity, joy, clarity
flowed through moments
pregnant with meaning.
Each moment was vast,
each moment held eternity.
And I had an epiphany:
I knew what mattered.
I knew what gave life meaning,
what filled that emptiness,
what brought forth the fullness
of the Self.
The feelings, moving in waves,
were markers of the profound.
I have known alcoholics
who look to a higher power.
I have known the religious
who speak of a God
who alone
can fill that emptiness within.
Everyone is looking.
I believe in something.
I believe in love.
I can’t prove it.
I can’t tell you it is different
from passion,
from hormonal desire,
from biological drives.
But I believe in love.
It is real.
It is true.
Transformative.
And it leads toward transcendence,
showing you
serene eternity—
without sacrificing
excitement, joy,
expansiveness, calm,
clarity, creativity.
Love embodies connectedness.
And that is enough.