= On a Night Like This, I Want a Real Love =
We all have those nights, the ones that go down in history as one of the best nights of your life. The nights we wish we could simply stop time, with the exact same people, doing what we all love, together. Tuesday night, was one of those nights.
Tuesday night, I caught a glimpse of real love in a room full of strangers. Real love, to me, is a rare, raw, and relentless. It's an energy that few can give off freely because it could be rejected. Allen Stone showed me, my best friend, and a room of maybe two hundred strangers, what real love is. I'd love to say it was the music, but honestly it was his heart. He showed us that, even if it is only for an hour and half, we should slow down to be who we want even if we don't know who that is. That we should dance, sing, feel, and love.
Our lives are full of checking things off of daily to do list, body clock timelines, societal timelines, but we rarely stop to just feel and experience right now. Last night, that whole music hall did. And as Allen sang, and boy, did he sang, a line that stuck with me, "I want a real love. Give it to me." That line sounds so vulnerable, yet greedy. We knew in that moment how he felt. He showed us his heart, and asked for ours in return. Did we give ours? Oh yes!
After feeling this love for the rest of the night there was not a single face in the room not smiling or body not damp with sweat. We danced. We sang. We laughed. We felt. We were exactly who we wanted to be. In that moment I realized if it isn't real love, I don't want it. If it isn't overwhelmingly passionate, genuine, crazy, and wholehearted love, it isn't worth it. Love like that is rare because it's supposed to be.
Now, I don't expect nights like that often, but I hope for more like it. The goal should be to live life everyday with real love; real love for self, family, friends, strangers, this earth. Life is the most precious gift given to us. Love it freely, feel every emotion it brings, and share love and good energy with others.
