Love in its everyday clothes is kindness. To friends and family? Heck, no. Even the deranged and the desperate practice transactional kindness. True kindness flies straight to the dude in the ditch. It’s spontaneous and unattached. It hasn’t any protocols. It doesn’t want anything.
Love is not words or feelings, thoughts or prayers. Love is an action. A spontaneous action taken in the full awareness that one is acting. This is different from an emotional reaction, which is never justified. A loving action has no self in it.
The prison of personality chokes off love by first inhibiting and finally denying spontaneity. Perfect behaviour is spontaneous behaviour. Love doesn’t calculate. It cares nothing for results. Love’s reward is the action itself.
The world can only be rescued from the inside out, lovingly, not from the outside in, legislatively. For this reason, disregard the man who claims to know what is best for other people.
When the mind is quiet, life happens easily, naturally and spontaneously. When the mind is restless, I am anxious and fretful, an open-hulled boat in choppy waters. The world reflects my state of mind.