We can rewrite the notion that the most profound states—from enlightenment to despair—are to be experienced alone. What we do when we turn toward another at the point of explosion is to secure our relational capacity in the most extreme condition.

It’s in those moments, when the container breaks, when control dissolves, that you discover if love was real or if it was just comfort dressed up as devotion.

Love is not what someone gives you,
or what they are supposed to be.

Time after time, you steer toward the vivid immediacy of now instead of retreating into yesterday’s safer patterns.

You want to walk all the way in and meet the force itself. You want to look karma in the face and say, I’m here now. 

I want to begin with my disclaimer:
I don’t sell finite relationships.

Often we do not say the hungers and desires we have or the expressions of love and even helplessness we feel in another’s presence.

Your presence becomes a kind of mirror, a channel through which they can feel themselves more clearly. They relax, they open, because they are being felt—not judged, not analyzed, but truly sensed.

Rejection,
when met without defense, burns away false narratives—love as reward, desirability as external validation, worth as acceptance.

What if jealousy is not something to get rid of, but something to use? What if it isn’t a block to arousal, but a pathway into it?