A crazy examination of the paradoxical nature of love.

I have been in relationships where the only thing I was in love with was love.

I used to think that made me a romantic. And I am, you know – a romantic. It may seem antithetical to my daily behaviour, but I believe in love. I have faith in it.

As I get older; as I meet more people living traditionally ‘unconventional’ lives, my certainty that love contains an element of forever has wavered, but my hope that it does has not.

Old-fashioned love is my blind faith; my invisible sky lizard with magical powers of magicalness.

We all have our strange religions.

But I’ve realised as I’ve gotten older, that being in love with being in love is not a romantic gesture. As an idea, it has a certain sweet naivete, but there is nothing romantic about putting it into practice. Because I have stayed in relationships where the only thing I was in love with, was love.

An adventure through the space between my ears - Part I: Relatively Special

Image: The Crab Nebula, the result of a supernova noted by Earth-bound chroniclers in 1054AD At its centre, a neutron star. NASA Image of the Day.

A note to begin:
I’ve been thinking about time, as a relative concept. I want to talk about that, but first you’ll need to know a little of Einstein’s Special Theory of Relativity. Like all things I do, I’ll try to make this extremely pleasurable.