"In this oneness that we finally learn to live in, that’s where the love is; not some kind of a soupy version, but a love with real strength."
—Charlotte Joko Beck

Why is it so difficult to see love in the world? In our lives? In our thoughts?

If we're all interconnected, made of the same cosmic dust, extending from the beginningless time until now—how is it we make the easiest thing the hardest?

Is the deck stacked against us—or are we dealing ourselves a losing hand? What would happen if we accepted the world, everyone in it, and the universe as it is—totally, completely—without our own judgements?

Are the roots of the maple tree upset when the leaves change a brilliant red? Do clouds cry when the rain falls?

What would happen if we returned to this oneness with each other? Would I be able to love you and you me? Would we be able to finally, concretely, love ourselves—and our conditions?

Would we ultimately realize we are love itself, waiting for the opportunity to ... be ... again?