When I was asked to write my reflections about love, my thoughts effortlessly gravitated towards an insight I would love to share with as many people as possible.
Once, during the pandemic, I was on a leadership online course, one of those that your company will sponsor to say they are ‘investing in your career’. After what seemed to me an endless Zoom call, the professor asked me: “Do you know what your purpose in life is?”.
I took a moment to think about it and, could only guess, driven by the will of being elsewhere making real connections, answered:
“Do you know when you are in a bar with friends that make you laugh and you feel like you truly belong.”
My purpose is to collect as many of these moments as I possibly can” – and by no means did I mean being at the bar.
That was obviously just a young – and locked down – adult trying to, presumptuously, have an answer to everything, but I think I surprisingly scored in this one.
The big moments, like going to a music festival with good company, listening to loud songs, looking at the sky, and smiling at the stars; as well as the not-so-big ones, like having a game night and laughing my lungs out with my family, or having lunch with my mom every day watching an episode of Gilmore Girls.
“After a while, I understood what it was that made me feel this way. The name, for me, is ‘Presence’. True, entire Presence.”
Going out with someone, not only looking them in the eyes, but noticing small things by not being hooked up to my phone, allowed me to love them and, maybe, to receive some love back.
Having a disagreement and listening carefully to what my counterpart has to say is a way of making myself vulnerable for love and kindness. I guess what I’m trying to say here is that, for me, love is about having the feeling of true togetherness that I can only achieve by being entirely present.
“I guess there’s still some nurturing of self-love awaiting me.”
Now, a few years later, I realized that I frequently find myself doing the very opposite of nurturing those moments. I still seize and enjoy them when I have company, but never alone.
I feel like I’ve been looking for some numbness: spending a lot of time scrolling, watching as many series as I possibly can, and filling all my quiet moments with some noise, be it music or a random podcast, but never – ever – being alone in silence, quietly together with my own company.
