Mae West said it best. "Love is not an emotion or an instinct it is an art." I've been thinking about the creative process and the seasons of love. Winter the necessary fallow time the expectant repose ready to sprout into verdant dizzying spring and then sundrenched days of summer and the glorious colors and shades of autumn. The ebb and flow of life and love reminds me of the reading by Ann Morrow Lindberg in her book of reflections Gift from the Sea.
Gift from the Sea Ann Morrow Lindberg
"When you love someone you do not love them all the time in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love of relationships. We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration , on continuity when the only continuity possible in life as in love is in growth, in fluidity in freedom in the sense that the dancers are free , barely touching as they pass but partners in the same pattern."