My mind and heart have been full of thoughts and feelings of love.
How I love myself.
How I love others.
A beautiful journey filled with the ache of surrender and the joy of merging, the gift of autonomy and the solitude of truth.
This morning, I found myself returning to one of the deepest reflections I know on love — a passage that first touched my heart as a teenager, freshly graduated and holding a copy of The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran.
His words dig into the wings of my heart and mirror the path I’ve walked with love — with myself and with others.
The pain, the beauty, the quiet knowing.
Before I share his words, I want to say this:
Each day I am blessed by those who give to me and those to whom I give — including myself.
The ebb and flow, the gift and the unhindered receipt, is the foundation of my life.
A miracle I may never fully understand, yet one which brings the richest learning and deepest experience.
On Love
By Kahlil Gibran
When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.
All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.
Where Love Leads Me
This is one of my favorite poems.
I come back to it not because I need reassurance — but because it helps me remember the truth of love’s fire.
Love doesn’t promise ease. It promises transformation.
It will melt you.
It will burn you down to your soul’s most sacred bone.
And then it will offer you back to yourself — tender, open, alive.
These words have followed me for decades, whispering reminders when I’m afraid to open, when I long to stay hidden, when love feels too raw or risky.
Gibran reminds me:
When love calls, I must follow.
When love wounds, I must listen.
When love quiets me, I must become still.
Because love doesn’t ask me to be safe.
It asks me to be true.
