What Would Love Do?
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- Written by Eve Moore
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What would love do?
It came to me, just recently,
that this question is not the question
to ask in the midst of having
to ask it—that is,
what would
love do?
The question
might better
be posed: what
would love feel?
As anger or frustration,
intolerance, fear or threat
of danger confront our system,
responding—even reacting—
to what confronts us, our
experience in a given
moment, we might
want to call forward
what love feels in
its great capacity,
in the fullness of
its spectrum:
alive.
A heightened
aliveness, an
awareness, a
striking attention
to our electric
field of energy.
Which is vast,
connected, even
if it is frazzled,
piqued, pissed.
What lies within
these husks is
protectiveness,
caring for the
existence of
oneself;
which is,
essentially,
understanding,
empathy, tolerance,
and feels like generosity,
kindness, even tender
forgiveness.
In a moment.
A recognition that evokes
soft detachment to stimuli,
outcomes, for it dwells
in the adroit presence
of now—here
and now.
I AM
now
aware
of softness
even in a hard
encounter.
The action is feeling...
not A feeling, though
we can be overwhelmed
by a particular wave like rage,
for instance, embarrassment
or the fire of retaliation.
But no feeling is isolated
from our great range of feelings;
even in the grip of a single one,
it is just one of many
nested in possibility.
Great are the waters
of the oceans
within us.
Reminding ourselves
of this, this state of being
that is spectra, can help
mitigate the overwhelm
a particular set of
circumstances
can elicit.
Instead of vengeance,
jealousy, possessiveness,
insecurity, powerlessness,
what can love also feel?
It can feel the upset,
the turbulence, the grip
of the undertow, the intense impact
to and on the nervous system,
the blistering, hot red
of the moment.
And it can also feel
other feelings
at the same
time.
Softer feelings.
Quieter currents.
The steadfastness
of being grounded
amidst the gale.
This simultaneity
of statehoods
creates space,
space for a
choice to
be made
as to how
to be in
any one
moment.
Dropping
in to what
lies under
the tow, the
surface waters
with their turbulence,
to the still foundation
of being, borne
of love itself.
It is that which
has been occluded
by civilizations of
humans lost to
seeing our
humanity.
Inhabiting the unnatural
environments of our making,
we've lost touch with the
natural life love
exists within.
It is nature,
wild and ever
under construction,
even when deconstructing,
that courses under the
skein of our skin.
The relationship
of all things dwells
here, made of the
elements all life
on earth share
in the myriad
forms we
occupy.
The act of
relationship,
of intrinsic, dynamic
connection
is the act
of love.
"I only went out
for a walk, and finally concluded
to stay out till sundown, for
going out, I found, was
really going in."
—John Muir
As Muir is known
to have been, we are
conduits between the
heavens and the
earth, fused
in this fusion.
He writes of going
to the mountains
"to touch the
nakedness
of god."
This sacred wildness
of which we are constellated
has not abandoned us,
for it is the very
essence of
who we
are.
Mysterium tremendum—
the inexplicable awe the felt
experience of nature's
living wonders stir.
It's what lies below all
things being
things—
including
each of
us.
Coming to learn
that 'thingness' is a
conditioned state, a
made-up, manufactured
state of conscious
out-dwelling.
It has learned the limits
and techniques, the strategies
and mechanics, the deeply
girded entrenchments
of safety with its eye
fixed on survival.
And survival alone.
This is the sleep state
out of which we
are waking.
When anger arises,
disdain, hurt,
what love
feels is
here.
For you.
The all of you,
even, and especially
the parts of you that are
humanly wired to feel
stings and wounds
and deep pain.
Love abides here, too.
Amidst the swell
of feelings flared—living
in peace with all that is,
its ambit far beyond
a conditioned
duality of
good or
bad.
We are not limited
to or in our feelings, but
actually freed by them,
for it is coming into our
full capacity as receivers
and transmitters—translators
rather than resistors—transformers,
transducers of vast ranges
of expression that is this
hallmark of created,
curated wonderment
called being alive.
Alive to all aspects,
all potentials, all
states of fused
consciousness.
Wherein limit
of any kind has
no place or
power to
dig ditches,
crack faults,
draw lines,
wreak havoc.
Here, life lives
free, feeling
its liberation
as birthright,
no matter its
shade of red
or green.
Black or white.
It is energy,
which we can
neither create
nor destroy, for it
is numinous, of divine
mystery—neither negative
nor positive, but
both, the third
force made
of opposites
meeting in
union.
Opposites attract.
As love does.
Simply loving
life, all life, even
the so-called
"unlovable,"
"untouchable"
—unfathomable.
Speaking
in riddles and rhymes,
contradiction and enigma
via its many tongues, it has
but one language:
movement.
Moving
pulses,
people,
purpose,
mountains.
We touch our holiness,
our wholeness, by letting
ourselves be all-too-human,
opening ourselves to what lands:
bees, sunbeams, torrents of rain—
and loving every chaotic,
sweet, uneasy,
wizening
second
of it.
Harmony comes
of many parts playing
at once, all together.
It is baked into
our sourdough,
so many strains,
like the facets of gems,
only more brilliant, heavenly,
for the cuts, their facings,
the light they hold
and reflect.
A goodly dose
of pixie dust leavens
this daily bread,
our song,
its shine,
a gift
we open
moment by
moment—
fresh, from
scratch.
It is a new sun,
a new moon, a new
start—feel that.
"To see the world, things dangerous
to come to, to see behind walls, draw
closer, to find each other and to feel.
That is the purpose of life."
—"The Secret Life of Walter Mitty,"
film, 2013; based on the short story
by James Thurber, circa 1939.
∞|∞
Eve Moore ©2025
© Photo: Eve Moore Eve Moore ©2025
Eve Moore: Once a professional writer of advertising, I saw the light & it has shown me words of a different nature. And so I take them down & offer them up. And all is well.
For more of Eve Moore's amazing and heart centered poetry and writings, click here!
http://www.crystalwind.ca/eve-moore
“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
—Jimi Hendrix
This poem/prose was submitted exclusively to CrystalWind.ca by Eve Moore.
© 2025. All original wisdom belongs to its creator, Eve Moore. CrystalWind.ca honors this truth by adding design, formatting, and imagery to uplift your experience. Please respect the creator’s rights—redistribution or commercial use is not permitted without permission.
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