I don’t know what I expected to find when I traveled to India, but I never expected him. He had dark brown eyes and dark brown skin, and spoke in a quiet tone that made you have to lean in to hear every word.
“Does it bother you that I’m black?” He asked.
“No,” I said. “Does it bother you that I’m white?”
He laughed and said no.
In short, our romantic passion grew like wildfire in a field of dry grass. We believed it was Love, but looking back, I think it was more like Love’s twisted cousin, Lust.
Nothing physical happened between us, rather, this Lust was more of a longing for possibilities. A lust for potential futures that had never been an option or even a thought before we met. For me it was also mixed with a love for Indian people (who are actually from India).
What I learned from all of this is that Love, real Love, the kind we all desire, is something that has to be nurtured and cared for. Imagine that every person you meet and could possibly fall in love with is a seed in your garden. The seeds you water are the ones that will grow, and bud, and bloom. You water the seeds with your actions. We have control over the Love in our hearts the same way we have control over what grows in our garden.
Love is not an uncontrollable urge, that’s lust.
Love is not butterflies in your stomach, that’s excitement.
Love is not sweaty palms and blushing cheeks, that’s nerves.
Love is actually deeper than all of that.
When we Love someone, we make a conscious decision.
For better or for worse.
Love is a way of living…