Truth always seems obvious in the present tense. To the seeker, though, it's a slippery substance. I tend to see everything that's important to me pretty much as I saw it as a ten year old. I had good teachers. I had unconditional love.
Over the years I've been some places and I've seen some things. I've accumulated some souvenirs and memorabilia.
Love, now, that's different. It's not cumulative. You don't put it in a chest in the closet and get it out and play with it. Show it off to friends. The poet boasts that he keeps it in his heart but I learned in high school physiology that the heart is just a blood pump.
We're all obsessive and we're all compulsive from time to time. It's a disorder, as I understand it, when it interferes with normal life. I don't live a normal life. I obsess over love and I've been compulsive in love.
What do you do?
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