Love. There have been so many things written about this word. Often quoted, rarely understood. The depth and nuance of this idea. Its all-encompassing power. Those of us lucky enough to have been touched by some form of genuine love know its ability to heal a broken heart and mend a fractured mind. Love is needed now more than ever. Contextual agility, the appreciation of nuance and pain. The recognition of trauma. After all, the entire human family is at war right now. Aren't we? Sometimes it feels like we have always been at war. With our brothers and sisters, with ourselves. Angels and demons locked in battle within our psyches. The sons and daughters of Abram have been estranged for the last two thousand years. We murder, deceive and distort in the names of our various gods. Our various mystery-cults and local flavours of myth-making. Each of us calling ourselves righteous as we indulge in this hideous global familicide. Are we not all brothers and sisters? Are we not all fathers, mothers, daughters and sons? I believe we are. In fact, I know it to be true. And this darkened realm of violence and hatred is not what I would wish for my beloved family, nor you for yours I suspect. The real war is within, of course. The War of Imagination. The war between shadow and light. There are many of us who grasp this instinctively. Those among us who would end these countless reigns of terror if we could. Those who would show us a different way. A gentler, kinder form of communion with the divine. And with each other. Love is a grand, often selfless word. Full of mystery, power and benevolent magic. It hurts that we live in a world where sacrifice is even necessary. A world where parents often go without to ensure their children have barely enough. But we all know the truth of these things. I wish nothing but peace for my brothers and sisters. This entire human family. But how far must we go to protect the ones we love? What would we ourselves be willing to sacrifice?
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