I just had what I deem a rather significant birthday. As these types of things slide by at a horrible rate, I find myself becoming increasingly nostalgic. Upon inspection of my life, in particular my youth, I am appalled with my fundamental lack of understanding on a number of subjects. Not the least of which is Love.
I have, for decades, in my internal dialogue, described Love as “The state of mind in which you care more for another, than you do yourself”. This is derived from Robert Heinlien. Trust me, you could steal from worse on this subject. Loving yourself doesn’t count.
But the subject of quantity often preoccupied me. As I said, I was atrocious at these things the majority of my life, an Emotional Moron.
But Grandma Miller had been teaching me, had I possessed the sense to watch. See, the Miller Family grew. She had sons and daughters with Clyde, my Granddad. They begat. And the Family got big. She new ALL our names, she hugged, touched, talked, and loved each one with utter sincerity. Light without Limit. It just kept coming! For a lifetime!
How the Hell can that be? No, really, how can anybody do that without their forebrain falling in? I seemed to have believed that Love was like a barrel of crude oil or a ham sandwich. When you’re out, you are out, done, fini.
If the thing you are giving runs out, it ain’t Love. Not saying it’s bad, have fun. CARPE DIEM! I’m not saying don’t take a nap, we all get a little thin some days.
What I am saying is “Love is What Makes Meat, Man.” All 660 Miles of Meat is lifted with Love.
Love and a Thumb.