What does it mean to love you? Does it mean I am overwhelmed by your beauty? Does it suggest your personality holds me in thrall? Does my admiration for your achievements draw me to you? Is it your kindness, your wit and your love for me that capture me?
None of these. To love you is to know I am you, you are me, we are One. Indeed, it is to see no you that is separate from me. To watch any momentary dream of separation dissolve back into open awareness.
With that, I want nothing of you, need nothing from you. I never did. Never could. Love means absolute release from any possible expectation. Love means total forgiveness for every wrong. More, love has no expectation; love perceives no wrong.
Freed from the limitation of the idea of me and of you, love takes centre stage. Displacing roses, fluffy hearts and fancy chocolates—for when love looks personal, it is the faintest echo of true love. Seen for what it is, love is at once majestic and ordinary, simple and profound, immediate and eternal. Love is simply the recognition of our true nature, our own Self.
Which means it’s no longer surprising that I love you. Even though you are just the man blocking the door of the train, the woman I pass in the street, the shop assistant handing me my change, the friend who challenges me like no other, my husband. How can I not love you, when all I see is Love itself?