I watched the sunlight disappear behind the clouds and waited for it to return, warming my cheeks once again.
Somewhere in that quiet waiting, a thought arose.
When I think of the people I love, each of them carries something entirely their own—a personality, an ideology, a way of being that exists nowhere else.
Then I began watching everyone walking into the office.
And I realized something.
I love the people I love because life gave me the time and space to truly know them.
If I had that same time with every person I met, perhaps I would love each of them too—in their own unique way.
Every person has a story.
Something they can teach.
Something they can give.
Something they are quietly carrying.
Each of us is mature in different ways. Each of us is insecure in different ways.
We spend so much of our lives decorating this limited physical appearance—trying to become leaner, fairer, darker, younger, prettier… changing our hair, our clothes, our faces—as though that is who we are.
But what is hiding behind all of that?
Who are we beneath the appearance we introduce ourselves with?
We think, speak, and behave the way we do because of everything we have accumulated—our memories, experiences, fears, and compulsions.
When those layers begin to loosen, what remains is something far more beautiful.
Joyful.
Loving.
Boundless.
If that is our true nature…
How can I not fall in love with everyone and everything there is?
