When I was younger, I was hooked on the thought of love being a fantastic feeling… As I’ve grown older, I have come to realise that love is a decision, an action, a commitment. The “feeling” actually waxes and wanes (or disappears altogether!). I don’t love someone I am having a screaming match with, usually; no, I don’t. But the commitment stays, if I love; and after the argument, I must make a way for the other person and I to move forward together. Love stays put when all I want to do is storm out in a rage; love touches gently when all I want to do is lash out. Love is not self-denial, necessarily; love is giving all of myself, even when everything in me would withdraw. Love is reaching out to a higher way of being, even though I fail along the way. I guess the trick is not to give up; love never quits. Love gets up, and keeps trying.