Friday, June 29, 2007

Romantic Love Quotes

Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.
- Aristotle

Love doesn't make the world go 'round.
Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.
- Franklin P. Jones

If you don't love too much, you don't love enough.
- Unknown

At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.
- Plato

True love is like a ghost;
everyone talks of it,
few have seen it.
- La Rochefoucauld

Love is the greatest refreshment in life.
- Pablo Picasso

Age does not protect you from love. But love, to some extent, protects you from age.
- Jeanne Moreau

Thursday, June 28, 2007

True Love Hard to Find...

It was a busy morning, approximately 8:30 a.m., when an elderly gentleman in his 80's, arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb.

He stated that he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am.

I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound.

On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his stitches and redress his wound.

While taking care of his wound, we began to engage in conversation. I asked him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry. The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife.

I then inquired as to her health. He told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer' s Disease. As we talked, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late. He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.

I was surprised, and asked him, "And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?"

He smiled as he patted my hand and said, "She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is."

I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and thought, "That is the kind of love I want in my life."

True love is neither physical, nor romantic.
True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Read it - What Love Is? -

What is that yearning within the heart, that ache that turns love from giving into a futile quest to get? What is that emptiness that you are seeking to fill?

It can be filled, of course, by giving yourself love, by opening yourself to the flow of endless love from the universe. But it can also be filled by allowing the love which fills your heart for others to be a great gift instead of a drama or the solution to a problem.

Love is. And if you are fortunate enough to love someone else, then allow that love to be a gift to you, a gift that fills you, whether or not the love you feel for another is returned in ways you wished it would be.

There is a great difference between the fulfillment of lustful or romantic fantasies and the reality that is love. Love is something quite different, but yet intertwined, and so it can be difficult to differentiate. But the romantic fantasy is focused on the future, not on what is right now, and ultimately leads to disappointment as the object of your fantasy is unable to create the world
you had desired, a world in which you are coveted and admired, a world in which every deep desire of yours for love and attention is fulfilled.

This is not a world of real relationships, once the potent mix of drugs which we call ‘falling in love’ has worn off.

I wish to focus instead on another kind of love, a love which is very similar to that which you feel for a child or a very close friend for whom you wish nothing but the best and with whom you are not involved in a drama of getting. For much of the drama in your life revolving around romantic love relationships is simply that: your frustrated desires to get something that you felt was lacking, something that you felt that this person promised you by way of the relationship.

What if you were to release this? What if you were to allow the other person to be and not to have expectations that they would fulfill a need of yours? What if you were to fulfill your own needs through your connection to spirit and through your actions in this physical world, and allow this other person to be someone who can live a parallel life, giving you both the great comfort of a partnership, yet a great deal of freedom as well, as interests or circumstances send you in other directions for a time?

And even if you love someone who does not appear to return your love, I wish you to look at it in different ways. First, separate out your romantic fantasies and desire to have th is person fulfill a role and a need in your life. Without that, do you truly love? Is this a person that you care to give love to without requiring any in return?

For that is love, that is the love you extend to others from a full-to-overflowing heart.

The drama of your relationships is normally the result of trying to get from someone else what they cannot possibly give, which is to fulfill you, to make you whole. This is your job and not the job of anyone else. And if you seek this from another, if yo u give them a part of yourself and spend the rest of your relationship asking them to give back to you, you have made a poor bargain.

And often it is a bargain that they did not willingly make, to take on the burden of a love with so many conditions.

When you give, give. When you love, love. And realize that a heart full of love is a wondrous thing, especially when it is not tainted with jealousy and grasping neediness. It is a wondrous thing, when you can truly care for another and want only the best for him or her, without requiring anything specific in return. This does not mean that you are suppressing your true feelings, manipulating behind the scenes, or crying your eyes out in private.

All of that is a part of the drama of needine ss and yearning.

Love is. Love fills your heart with gladness when the loved one is in your presence, and yet has the grace to let go after parting. Love such as this is something that you have not been taught, certainly not in the movies and magazines. It is a lofty goal, to learn to love in this way, in a way in which you are giving, but yet also giving to yourself, for you realize that a heart full of love is a great gift to both of you.

Silent and giving, full of golden energy that glows outward fr om a warm and pliable heart, this is love. Embracing in its warmth, but not seeking more than it is, this is love. A spark in the eyes, a heart of gladness, a lilting voice of greeting, these are signs of a love without strings and attachments, a love without jealousy and neediness, a love which seeks to flow, not grasp.

This is a new way to love, and is something which may be difficult to achieve at first. But it is a goal worth pursuing, to learn to care for others in this way. And if the loved one moves on, that is all right. You are in a world full of people you may love. For when you are truly giving love and not seeking to get anything specific in return, when you are glowing with love and not living a romantic fantasy, everyone is glad to receive your love.

Everyone is glad to be in the presence of your warm and glowing caring. And the glow which is returned to you is many times the energy which you pour forth in your flowing, selfless, generous love.

- Sue Divine
With lots of love, light, peace and joy always.

Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Good Lord Works for True Love

by: Author Unknown

As I walked home one freezing day, I stumbled on a wallet someone had lost in the street. I picked it up and looked inside to find some identification so I could call the owner. But the wallet contained only three dollars and a crumpled letter that looked as if it had been in there for years.

The envelope was worn and the only thing that was legible on it was the return address. I started to open the letter, hoping to find some clue. Then I saw the dateline--1924. The letter had been written almost sixty years ago. It was written in a beautiful feminine handwriting on powder blue stationery with a little flower in the left-hand corner. It was a "Dear John" letter that told the recipient, whose name appeared to be Michael, that the writer could not see him any more because her mother forbade it. Even so, she wrote that she would always love him. It was signed, Hannah. It was a beautiful letter, but there was no way except for the name Michael, that the owner could be identified. Maybe if I called information, the operator could find a phone listing for the address on the envelope.

"Operator," I began, "this is an unusual request. I'm trying to find the owner of a wallet that I found. Is there anyway you can tell me if there is a phone number for an address that was on an envelope in the wallet?"

She suggested I speak with her supervisor, who hesitated for a moment then said, "Well, there is a phone listing at that address, but I can't give you the number." She said, as a courtesy, she would call that number, explain my story and would ask them if they wanted her to connect me. I waited a few minutes and then she was back on the line. "I have a party who will speak with you."

I asked the woman on the other end of the line if she knew anyone by the name of Hannah. She gasped, "Oh! We bought this house from a family who had a daughter named Hannah. But that was 30 years ago!" "Would you know where that family could be located now?" I asked.

"I remember that Hannah had to place her mother in a nursing home some years ago," the woman said. "Maybe if you got in touch with them they might be able to track down the daughter." She gave me the name of the nursing home and I called the number.

They told me the old lady had passed away some years ago but they did have a phone number for where they thought the daughter might be living. I thanked them and phoned. The woman who answered explained that Hannah herself was now living in a nursing home.

This whole thing was stupid, I thought to myself. Why was I making such a big deal over finding the owner of a wallet that had only three dollars and a letter that was almost 60 years old? Nevertheless, I called the nursing home in which Hannah was supposed to be living and the man who answered the phone told me, "Yes, Hannah is staying with us. "

Even though it was already 10pm, I asked if I could come by to see her. "Well," he said hesitatingly, "if you want to take a chance, she might be in the day room watching television."

I thanked him and drove over to the nursing home. The night nurse and a guard greeted me at the door. We went up to the third floor of the large building. In the day room, the nurse introduced me to Hannah. She was a sweet, silver-haired old timer with a warm smile and a twinkle in her eye. I told her about finding the wallet and showed her the letter.

The second she saw the powder blue envelope with that little flower on the left, she took a deep breath and said, "Young man, this letter was the last contact I ever had with Michael." She looked away for a moment deep in thought and then said softly, "I loved him very much. But I was only 16 at the time and my mother felt I was too young. Oh, he was so handsome. He looked like Sean Connery, the actor."

"Yes," she continued. "Michael Goldstein was a wonderful person. If you should find him, tell him I think of him often. And," she hesitated for a moment, almost biting her lip, "tell him I still love him. You know,"she said smiling as tears began to well up in her eyes, "I never did marry. I guess no one ever matched up to Michael..."

I thanked Hannah and said goodbye. I took the elevator to the first floor and as I stood by the door, the guard there asked, "Was the old lady able to help you?" I told him she had given me a lead. "At least I have a last name. But I think I'll let it go for a while. I spent almost the whole day trying to find the owner of this wallet."

I had taken out the wallet, which was a simple brown leather case with red lacing on the side. When the guard saw it, he said, "Hey, wait a minute! That's Mr. Goldstein's wallet. I'd know it anywhere with that bright red lacing. He's always losing that wallet. I must have found it in the halls at least three times."

"Who's Mr. Goldstein?" I asked as my hand began to shake.

"He's one of the old timers on the 8th floor. That's Mike Goldstein's wallet for sure. He must have lost it on one of his walks." I thanked the guard and quickly ran back to the nurse's office. I told her what the guard had said. We went back to the elevator and got on.

I prayed that Mr. Goldstein would be up. On the eighth floor, the floor nurse said, "I think he's still in the day room. He likes to read at night. He's a darling old man."

We went to the only room that had any lights on and there was a man reading a book. The nurse went over to him and asked if he had lost his wallet. Mr. Goldstein looked up with surprise, put his hand in his back pocket and said, "Oh, it is missing!"

This kind gentleman found a wallet and we wondered if it could be yours?" I handed Mr. Goldstein the wallet and the second he saw it, he smiled with relief and said, "Yes, that's it! It must have dropped out of my pocket this afternoon. I want to give you a reward."

"No, thank you," I said. "But I have to tell you something. I read the letter in the hope of finding out who owned the wallet." The smile on his face suddenly disappeared. "You read that letter?"

"Not only did I read it, I think I know where Hannah is." He suddenly grew pale. "Hannah? You know where she is? How is she? Is she still as pretty as she was? Please, please tell me," he begged.

"She's fine...just as pretty as when you knew her." I said softly. The old man smiled with anticipation and asked, "Could you tell me where she is? I want to call her tomorrow." He grabbed my hand and said,"You know something, mister, I was so in love with that girl that when that letter came, my life literally ended. I never married. I guess I've always loved her. "

"Mr. Goldstein," I said, "Come with me." We took the elevator down to the third floor. The hallways were darkened and only one or two little night-lights lit our way to the day room where Hannah was sitting alone watching the television. The nurse walked over to her.

"Hannah," she said softly, pointing to Michael, who was waiting with me in the doorway. "Do you know this man?" She adjusted her glasses, looked for a moment, but didn't say a word. Michael said softly, almost in a whisper, "Hannah, it's Michael. Do you remember me?"

She gasped, "Michael! I don't believe it! Michael! It's you! My Michael!" He walked slowly towards her and they embraced. The nurse and I left with tears streaming down our faces. "See," I said. "See how the Good Lord works! If it's meant to be, it will be."

About three weeks later I got a call at my office from the nursing home. "Can you break away on Sunday to attend a wedding? Michael and Hannah are going to tie the knot!" It was a beautiful wedding with all the people at the nursing home dressed up to join in the celebration. Hannah wore a light beige dress and looked beautiful. Michael wore a dark blue suit and stood tall. They made me their best man. The hospital gave them their own room and if you ever wanted to see a 76-year-old bride and a 79-year-old groom acting like two teenagers, you had to see this couple. A perfect ending for a love affair that had lasted nearly 60 years.

Monday, June 25, 2007

Romantic Poem - Love is Hard to Get & Hard to Hold

- Loy Bowman -

Love is like a lump of gold,
Hard to get, and hard to hold.
Of all the girls I've ever met,
You're the one I can't forget.
I do believe that God above,
Created you for me to love.
He chose you from all the rest,
Because he knew I would love you best.