I don’t love often enough.
There’s this wonderful softness that happens for me in small moments of connecting with a dear friend. In little pieces of contact, moments of getting to peek in someone else’s window, I become aware of my heart. It comes suddenly and so clearly to the foreground. And I feel restored. I can breathe again. Life becomes effortless. I am simply there, and I am responding in the sweetest, most natural way. That’s what loving feels like to me.
I was born to do it, and yet, I don’t do it nearly often enough.