I don’t want to write about love.

I really don’t.

Love is not a topic that I have any business writing about. But, a deal is a deal- Amanda gives me a word, and I write about it.

I love to write. I love it so much that even when given a topic that I don’t want to write about, I do it anyway.  I think that is characteristic of love.

Because I love something, I am willing to tolerate the parts of it that I don’t enjoy. I am willing to look past the flaws, the frustrations, the imperfections, and the struggles, because I know that there is something within it that I need and want.

Every parent can give you countless examples of times when they didn’t want to go to the children’s school, sporting events, or birthday parties, but they do these things, because it’s what you do. It’s pre-programmed, on some level, when you love your kids.

Every spouse can give you a thousand examples of outfits thrown together for events they didn’t want to attend, or functions they didn’t have any interest, because it meant something to their significant other. We do it out of love.

I don’t think love is meant for me to write about.  I don’t know if there has ever been a writer eloquent enough to truly harness love within words. It’s not something to be explained, but something to be felt.

Love is feeling that swells behind your eyeballs, that stands on the back of your neck. It pulls you and guides you, and it boils in your stomach. It leads you, commands you, and clears you a path. It helps you become willing to do what you wouldn’t, and it gives you the courage to do what is best.

Love is the everyday, the easy, the things we take for granted. It’s the reason we do most things, and the reason we feel pain. It’s the origin of drive, it’s the heart of ambition, it’s the first step towards failure, and the reason we succeed. It’s the creator of passion and the driver of desire, it’s the reason for disappointment, for frustration, and for shame.

There’s too many words to be used to explain love, and none of them adequate to explain it all. It’s the reason we start and the reason we finish, it’s the reason we sit idle and the reason that we stall. It’s everything that is good and everything that is evil. For every action there’s a reason, and somewhere within reason, there is love somewhere amidst it all.

Peace, Love, and all things Beef related,