Goldie is here in all her glory. She’s almost five months old and over 15 pounds of squishy deliciousness. Goldie Valentine is our first grand baby and we are over-the-moon madly deeply and quite hopelessly in love with her. She’s literally the cutest baby ever born & completely perfectly extraordinary in every way. All we want to do is circle up and stare at Goldie. We can’t get enough. When she smiles we smile. When she giggles and coos, we giggle and coo. We feed her her bottle with pure joy and delight and discuss how many ounces she can drink and how often she drinks it and what a genius she is at it. We change her diapers with happiness and joy. Our conversations center around how many hours she slept last night and how blue her eyes are today. We say things like “can you believe how adorable she is and can you believe she’s ours and what was life even like before Goldie?” We take thousands of pictures and hours of video and we’ll do anything, drop anything, buy anything, go anywhere for our Gogo girl. We live in dreamy Goldie Land and we’re unashamedly ridiculous about it. Our hearts have busted wide open and are amazed at the wonder of a love like this. It’s such fun. We are in love. We feel love. Love is everything. She is everything.
So yes, let’s talk about love. Let’s discuss lovability. Let’s converse about our capacity to love. Goldie showed up one late night in May a little bundle of love and hasn’t done anything since then but be lovable. Her lovability is absolute. Our capacity to love her is 100%. She gets to be exactly who she is and we get to experience unconditional love for her. It’s a treasured gift. It’s why we’re here. It’s why she’s here. It’s pure. It’s unexplainable. It transforms us. It makes us a little kinder, a little brighter, a little softer. We don’t have expectations or requirements or agendas. We don’t compare her or judge her or wish she was different. She can’t disappoint us or make us mad or hurt our feelings. She cries and giggles and pees and poops and eats and sleeps and we love her. She doesn’t do anything to make us love her. She doesn’t work at it. She doesn’t try to be more lovable. She doesn’t manipulate or perform or even love us back. There’s nothing she can do to make us love her more and there is nothing she can do to make us love her less. We’re just all in. She’s worthy of love all the time exactly how she is. She’s here to be loved. We’re here to love her. It feels good to love her. Love without resistance. Love without conditions.
I ponder & wonder about this kind of love. How fun it is. How good it feels. How healing it is. How lovable our baby is. How lovable all babies are. How we all were babies this lovable. How we all just want to be loved. I’m fascinated by the idea that love is truly why we’re here. We’re supposed to get better at it. Maybe it’s actually a skill that we practice. Maybe it’s always available to me and I just choose to feel it. What if I took this love I feel for Goldie and choose to feel it for everyone. What if it’s that simple. What if all the other stuff that wants to get in the way doesn’t even matter. All the blaming &pushing & pulling, jockeying for position, us & them, he did this & she said that, I’m right & you’re wrong….all the judgements & unforgiveness & jealousy & smallness &scarcity & bitterness & fear….all the excuses & distractions and reasons why really don’t matter at all. What if they are all let-go-a-ble. What if the space they take up in us was replaced with the softness & brightness & kindness of love. What if we grew our capacity to love by letting go of the conditions. What if we stopped resisting love and let it in. What if we decided that everyone is lovable. That we’re all worthy of love all the time exactly as we are. What if we realized how fun it is to love. What if we realized how good it feels to love. Love without resistance. Love without conditions.
I imagine this could be the actual secret to the universe. The secret to living our best life. All of us…. You&Me&Goldie…..We’re here for LOVE. And Love is everything.