I listened to a news story about pianos that had historical significance being handed down through generations of families on NPR on my long walk with Marley this morning. One of the people interviewed said that while they had the inside of the piano repaired they left the outside alone, as it bore the marks of history that told its story. The idea resonated a great deal with me.
As a musician, I very much feel that my instrument becomes a part of me, imbued with my touch, my breath, with the emotions that I work to convey through the music. I think this way about love, too.
Our bodies are like those instruments, part and parcel of all of the love we have ever given or received, the essence of whispered words, of the imprint of arms that have held us close. Even if we bear the scars of love’s end, its spirit stays with us, making us stronger and readying our hearts to be open to try over and over again to the gift of being open to give and receive love.
I am deeply grateful to have found great love and to live my life knowing that I am loved. This was not always the case, and so I will never apologize for celebrating this love in all of the sappy, goofy, romantic ways that I can. The wonderful thing is that love is just not romantic love; it is also found in friendship, in family, in our sense of home, in our life passions, and with our pets, too.
Love is always worth the cost, whatever it may be; the most beautiful and precious gift imaginable. Ageless, with echoes that move endlessly throughout the world. May you find love…and may we all be love.