Love Is ..

The first kiss. Do you remember that? Do you remember whether it was sunny or cloudy, night or day? What were you wearing and did your legs melt? Was it nothing more than a hazy drink fuelled underwhelming feeling of “well that wasn’t nice or was it the most amazing experience never repeated since by anyone you have ever met? Do you remember your first love? Was it with someone you never ever had enough courage to speak to and every so often throughout your life you wonder what became of them? Love is many things both a wonder and hell depending on your core inner conscious balance. Its opposite is all that is dark in human nature. Our conscious is governed by our subconscious giving us direction that is often not for our own benefit but the ego and your sum total of fears. For most of us love is what we strive to achieve in our lives.. a balance of love, life and career. To be in it at its height and experience the joy even once is a blessing, twice even more so but several times could seem like a curse.

What can I say personally about love? I have loved and lost many times like most of us. To live life fully and experience fully is to show passion fully. There is no other way for me to live and in these emotions my work is enhanced. For many years I’ve documented love and lovers. Its nothing more than a reflection of my desires to feel and be in love. It is what it is. It is what we all seek. For those in love.. keep going and always find a way if the going gets a little tough. For those who have no love in their lives.. don’t despair. It’s for a reason you haven’t yet worked out but it will come. You only have to open your heart and not always believe what your eyes and mind are telling you.

Words (c) Stewart Weir 2014

Kahlil Gibran’s last paragraph at the end of this post sums what love is perfectly for me.

Brighton Beach Lovers seies © Stewart Weir 2002
Brighton Beach Lovers seies © Stewart Weir 2002

Brighton Beach Project

From the Brighton Beach Lovers Series © Stewart Weir 2005
From the Brighton Beach Lovers Series © Stewart Weir 2005
Florence Kiss
Firenze Kiss (c) Stewart Weir 2005
Tel Aviv (c) Stewart Weir 2010
St James Park, London © Stewart Weir 2012
St James Park, London © Stewart Weir 2012
Brighton Beach Lovers 2001-2008
The Storm (c) Stewart Weir 2005
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First Kiss, Tokyo (c) Stewart Weir 2002

Kahlil Gibran on Love

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, “I am in the heart of God.”
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

Summer Rain

Summer Rain © Stewart Weir 2013

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was often times filled with your tears. And how else can it be? The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven? And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives? When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.   Some of you say, “Joy is greater thar sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.” But I say unto you, they are inseparable. Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.   Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy. Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced. When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall. – Kahlil Gibran




Where Is Your Path?

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Kfar Giladi Kibbutz, Israel border with Lebanon © Stewart Weir 2010

Say not, I have found the path of the soul. Say rather, I have met the soul walking upon my path.  For the soul walks upon all paths. The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.  The soul unfolds itself like a lotus of countless petals.  Kahlil Gibran