Every year for some time now a small group gathers
on an evening around the holidays
for a deep dive discussion regarding
the mysteries of life while
enjoying a few libations and tasty
treats. The group is diverse; male,
female, young and old, and rarely
exceeds six in number.
On this occasion we took on the
meaning of true love which seemed
like an odyssey through an endless prism of colorful
lights, gossamer veils and opaque cloaks shining from
many angles. Meaning, the more we probed and bantered,
the harder it was to captivate.
Each person contributed to the emerging conflict
and consensus from various perspectives, all being
valid. In a way, everyone’s experience with love is a
spotted sense of perfection, and virtuous, assuming it
is a genuine communion with another held dear – and
holds steadfast through minor discontent or even advancing
waves of fire. One description might be…an infinite
oneness between two beings, each comprised
of distinct parts yet bonded by a common nucleus.
In defining true love, it seems beauty needs to be
included as a sister or even a distant cousin. In 1878 the
authoress Margaret Wolfe Hungerford wrote “beauty is
in the eye of the beholder”. Perhaps we could substitute
love for the word beauty in this phrase as equally
No conclusion ever comes from these make-shift
symposiums. However, upon dispersing in the wee
hours we carried with us some additional brain food to
digest in the days to come.