Small messages of love - Blog Post

It's almost a joke between us now - his inability to plan.

  'I can't find ping pong anywhere except in Hackney,' he said, frantically searching the net mere hours before we were supposed to meet. It was a given that neither of us were prepared to head to East London on a cold winter's school night.

  'What about meditation? Oh, I can't find any in South West London tonight...' he lamented.
  'What about yoga?' he asked.
  'I don't want to tonight...' I replied.

He came to my home fully prepared to be berated for his lack of planning for our date night. He expected the worst.
  'I have an idea, it could be lame-o, but it might be fun,' I said.
  'What is it?'
  'I saw on the internet an idea of writing positive messages and putting them in our favourite books in a book shop for someone to receive.'
He thought about it for a moment, 'Okay, let's do it. But I don't think we should go to a book shop.'
  'What about a library?'
  'Yeah okay.'

We took pens, paper and scissors to the local library and started writing messages. I was writing short messages about how beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful and amazing people are. He sat there and just wrote on one piece of paper for a long time.

  'Do you want to read it?'

I nodded.

I read his story of pain, shame, self-doubt and a life of comparison where he felt he was always lacking. I read the story of a man who is now willing to become vulnerable to another human being and share his own story. I read the story of a man whose life is no longer beginning to own him as the story he wrote also gave a message of hope. He spoke about the best ways to grow, to find the self, to find a person's way home again. Connecting his heart to the pain of others and helping them find a way to heal in a world that seems so lonely.

He wrote, 'You are not alone.'

He placed it in a book and as the security guard started to haunt the aisles informing us the library was about to close, he was caught writing again and told that his actions were not allowed. When asked he told the guard he had forgotten which books his other messages had been placed in, protecting the love he had given that evening.

As I walked back from my own expedition, he was there with my bag walking towards me, 'We've been busted.'
  'Why?' I asked, forever questioning authority.
  'I don't know I didn't ask. It was probably the most excitement he's had all day.'

We left the library as rebels but still had some positive messages in our hands. We tried to give them to random Londoners rushing busily on the street to their important place. Some people were willing to receive a pocket of love from the universe and their smiles were beatific and beautiful. However, most people threw some negative, displaced and annoyed energy towards us for stepping into their world uninvited. It made me feel sad that such distrust surrounded me as I walk my path.

  'We've got two left,' I said. 'I know, let's go into the shop and place them in handbags or purses so when people buy them they will find a message of love.'
  'Okay.'

And we did, we placed two small messages of love and hope, of the promise of sharing our true authentic selves with the world in the hope we can make the world a more beautiful and harmonious place to live, and then we went back to my home.

On the bed we snuggled with our heads and bodies touching. It felt like he is returning from the journey he has been on. It felt like the puzzle pieces were starting to fit and the picture becoming clearer as he seemed more whole, real and willing to be.

  'Seeing you and doing aarti are like a refuge,' he said.
  'Lee Lee is always here,' I replied.


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