Love letter # 122

It is good to be reminded that I am not everything; that the popular ‘vale of illusion’ fantasy which posits a self-centric universe is itself an illusion – a fetish of hubris and extravagant denial.

There is something other than me. At the very least, you.

You are not simply a means for me to see myself – a vehicle of solipsistic recognition – you are the door out of self.

My love for you reminds me to be thankful – humble. It reminds me of time and ephemerality. Of fragility and smallness. Of all those existential terrors. But it frees me from the fear of them – lets me embrace them.

Yet, what your love for me allows is utterly indescribable.