My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Monday, July 20, 2015
Trying To Control Love
Each place and each person evoke feelings that while the same, in that we call them both love, the concern remains lest they not be able to bond one to another and in the process the love may be damaged. I know I can be too protective and that in truth love may not need my concern and attempts to control. It can flourish on its own. I know too that love and fear are not the same. But, that is only the knowing.
Labels:
control,
fear,
knowing,
love,
protection
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