Love Reminded Me...

There is a sincere, honest, pure beauty in a world perpetuated by Love. In the simplest form, Love is as complex as the four letters which comprise the word. Love is present in the smallest of gestures, the slightest whisper, the calmest glance of the eyes. It is everything wanted and needed by a human race searching for so much more. Yesterday, amongst the noise, the dancing, and the cheers of hundreds of thousands of people, I was reminded of such simplicity.

We were all there for the sake of Love.

It is hard to believe we live in a world where there are rules and regulations as to the display, creation, and perpetuation of such a beautiful, natural motion. There are excuses and rumors and lies that scar the very name of Love, and send tears of confusion down Her cheeks, as She wonders what Her giving heart did to deserve such judgment.

Perhaps it is my lack of ascription to a specific religion or set of a beliefs that allows me to take Love in on her darkest days, pass Her a cup of tea, and promise that after a few Advil, the headaches of the world will dissipate.

She constantly asks me, "What did I do to deserve this?".
Do you know how difficult it is to answer a question that does not have a rational, suitable answer?

This world is befuddled and dumbfounded by the norms and guidelines that box the human race into a perpetuated comfort zone. Each time we step out of that zone, which rarely happens as history reminds us, a change occurs. Lives are saved, people are relieved of the burdens their ancestors have carried for centuries, and we take another step in an aimless direction of progression.

As I pondered the lack of true direction the human race has in this abstract idea of "life", I looked around at the friends of Love. I found her in the arms of the strangers above; in the kiss of two women who valued Her beauty to the fullest; in the glances of supporters and advocates of Love's manifestation in all forms. And I wondered why We were so afraid, for so long (and quite honestly, still afraid) to step out of  that box of comfort once more, and give Love a true chance at success.

Should we have to throw a parade to save Her name? Should stickers and pamphlets and encouraging words from Love's enlightened minds be absolutely vital to Her success in the world? Love smiled at me yesterday, She told me She belonged her.

Love should not have to search for a place to belong.

So, as the parade continued and the noise escalated, and Love breathed a deep sigh of relief-I fell into a disconnected zone of content. And as I looked to my right, I found a little ray of hope:

I found Love. Wrapped about the arms of this tiny girl, whispering into her soul:

"Please, make me a home."

And even if this beautiful child didn't understand Her right away...I know she will do the best she can to take Love in and spread Her across the span of the life she is just beginning.

There is hope in the future.
In the future, there is Love.

Hello, London.

As with any relationship, London and I have had our ups and downs these past few days. We seem to be shaky friends at this point, with a sincere hope in each of our hearts for something more. Fortunately, with each passing hour, I have accepted another of this crazy city's interesting quirks, and I believe her continual appeals to my heartstrings and thoughts have created more of a friendship than I had expected upon arrival.


There's a chilly breeze in this blank flat (apartment) and the many buildings outside of my window look inviting with curtains and furniture blocking the windows of my neighbor's little pieces of the city. We may not have much (really, nothing more than a table and a few ratty couches) in this room, but outside, London breathes deeply and heavily with excitement, comfort, and a distinctive personality different from anything I have ever encountered. 


She's calling me to come play. 
But, for today, I think I'll have a grown up come to the door and explain I'm feeling a bit sick and should "lie down for a while" (winkwink). 
Sometimes it's difficult to make new friends when your heart is with the old.


For those of you reading, new or old friends, family members, strangers--you should know I see you at every single corner and at every park bench in the near-by Hyde Park. I search for your voices-familiar signals of home-and my senses beg for smells and sights of something from where I came...besides a McDonalds or a KFC. I know you are with me on this journey, and I would never be able to do it without you. I would greatly appreciate it if you could hop on a plane and join me, but seeing as this city is more expensive than the American ones I just left, I understand if you can only capture your messages in little bottles and send them to me overseas.


Don't worry about the address...I'll find them.


London, thus far, is a city of chaos. People are constantly rushing, preaching, begging for change, bumping into one another-like little particles of a complicated chemical. Everyone seems to have something on their mind, or hidden in their accented words and actions-a little key to life-that only fits to the door of answers we are all searching for. But while they're eyes are focused on the street in front of them, mine are focused on the backs of their heads, their children, and the way in which they walk and interact with one another. 


It's quite a bit like home, and then quite different. (And now I'm using the word "quite" because that's "quite" common here...)


After re-reading the paragraphs above, I feel as though I should clarify the muddled mess in my mind for those of you reading. I've not slept (well) in a few days, my heart is heavy with homesickness, and my shoes are constantly on my feet for fear of contracting a disease from the carpet in this room. My eyes are bright with hope, but heavy with exhaustion. And my mind is full of questions, observations, memories, and the surface panic attacks of which tube-line to take to make it home. 


I suppose I simply had to tell someone besides my leather-bound journal about the conflicts I am currently experiencing. London and I are working out the kinks, and I believe in the next two days, we shall grow quite close. 


(She knows I'm in love with her cuisine, already.) :)


For now, I will leave you with an existential note of hope, happiness, and submerged bliss somewhere beneath this chilly, pale skin of mine.


It's time to close the window. But tomorrow is another day, and I think I'm finally ready to explore.


Good Evening, London. 
You may now relax.