“To love at all is to be vulnerable.
Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken.
If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal.
Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. but in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change.
It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.
The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy is damnation.
The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.” C.S. Lewis’ The Four Loves

Some questions on love:
– Why are your closest friends and family amazingly adept at “pushing your buttons”? What is it about philial affections that can make us prone to quick offense and subsequently quick repair?
– What is it about our soul that finds the greatest satisfaction and fulfillment in the most sacrificial of loves? I say soul because it doesn’t seem as though it would satisfy the flesh, but perhaps I am missing something here.
– What is the connection between love and duty? You have to love your husband, even when he seems unloveable; you have to love your brother even when he’s unloveable, etc… Being human, we have to acknowledge love goes so much deeper than the eros, so is the deepest love (agape) still tied to duty, or is it the loves in between?
– Very important question: why is “love” always associated with the heart?

I have begun working on some essays on loves, so am probing for your thoughts.


The Sky Above

Once my mom asked me if I would ever stop taking pictures of the sky. I told her that I would stop when I saw the same one twice. God uses a palette that we cannot even imaging; I suppose He creates a new color each day, one we may not even perceive. Just because it pleases Him. And the colors and clouds never cease to casually change at His command. I like to think that our awe at such a sight is echoed in the sky, as each ray realizes it is part of something gloriously wonderful and continues to obey the whim of the Artist above.

Budapest sunset on my birthday by Leslie Mezger