I woke up this morning with the thought, “Is this what love looks like.
Yesterday evening I bought 2 100g Hershey Caramel Latte chocolate bars. I ate one. It was good. However, I was aware that it wasn’t as good as I wanted it to be. It was overly sweet, and sugar, not chocolate, was the predominant sensation. As I was trying to get to sleep, I had the urge to eat the other. That made no sense at all. Sugar, chocolate and sleep are not a good combination. But I did. I ate it. I ate a 100g chocolate bar as I was trying to go to sleep. Which resulted in more difficulty going to sleep. Which meant another ½ dose of sleeping medication. Which meant this morning I woke up achy, tender, and even more tired than usual. Which made it harder to get up out of bed.
As I lay there this morning in my self-imposed misery, this question came, “Is this what love looks like?” Not so much in relation to the chocolate and my choice, but more as a question of inquiry. I let it roll around and then settle in. I thought about some of my actions, choices, patterns in an average day and posing this question at points during my day. I could imagine answering yes as I ate my breakfast (usually yogurt, berries, flax and most recently several tablespoons of hemp hearts). I could imagine answering “Yes” as I go out into the garden. I could imagine “Yes” as I choose to take a needed nap.
I thought about the choices I had made with regards to the chocolate. No. This is definitely not what love looks like. The first bar was eaten without particular pleasure. I ate it unconsciously. The second was eaten as an act of unconscious sabotage. Or perhaps not so unconscious. I considered what my choices might have been had I asked this question before eating. To be honest, I may have eaten them anyway. But I would like to think that there would have at least been a pause, a chance to reflect, a possibility for conscious choice rather than unconscious reaction. I am very curious to find out when chocolate and “yes, this is what love looks like” will truly be part of the same equation.
I’ve since remembered Patti Digh asking the question, “What would love do?” I’m going to adopt that version of the question for my practice, my inquiry of love. I don’t think Patti will mind. When I opened up my email this morning, there was a fresh 37days blog post titled, “What would love do?” Sometimes my mind can hardly hold the synchronicities in this life; my heart takes over and sits in amazement.
What would love do? I’m curious to find out.