My evening last with Jane Eyre and dear Edward

There are things about love that I understand only internally. Like a pearl within its oyster parent, there are beautiful thoughts that grow inside of me quite unrealized. Songs can remind me...mostly music though, without words. Clair de Lune captures that intense feeling for me, and gives it back to swell within my chest like a rolling crashing wave. Pablo Neruda writing about the sea leaves me in unchartered territory, happily tearful and amazed. I believe that for some of us, the feeling of love has to sneak in disguised as something else...words or notes, sounds or panoramic views. It is too frightening to arrive as itself for some of us. And even as we wish for it, we know not how to allow it to sweep into our life bringing a torrent of uncontrolled cravings, hopes and tiny dreams. It feels better to encounter it on neutral ground. I am always so thankful for the moments it quietly changes my path. I am left waiting for the next time it happens, like a note unfinished, a canvas seeking its oil.