In defense of loving

The idolization of aloofness and mystery clouds our minds. We are a world in love with not being in love and obsessed with the idea of no attachments.

Fighting through the smoke, we miss the greatest gift we are given: love. I don’t mean the kind of love that happens under moonlight skies on starry nights. Nor the kind that covers a room in rose petals. That is romance. I mean love.

I mean kissing your friend goodbye or holding her hand through a rough moment. I mean picking up sushi to share to surprise someone for no reason at all. I mean driving and hour and a half just for dinner and a good conversation. This is love.

When we wade in the water only deep enough to have people to party with or have a game night with, we miss the connections that form when people open their hearts to one another. This isn’t an easy task. It’s hard to tell who has arms trustworthy enough to fall into. Everyone has fallen victim to a false friend in some way or another.

But what matters is what we do after that. Do we crumble our true selves away and no longer open our minds and souls to others in the hopes that they will not hurt us? Or do we perservere like walking on glass through the shattered pieces of our hearts, pushing on no matter how it hurts?

If you love, you will get cut. But if you don’t, you will never feel the warmth of a friend’s smile and the comforting touch of their hand. You miss the joy of doing for another just because you can. If you never choose to love, you may still be loved, but the truest form of happiness comes from giving, not receiving.

When you inevitably get battered and bruised by someone whom you’ve loved, the others will emerge and help you to your feet. Friends and loved ones will wipe off the dirt and bandage your scrapes. And all the love you have given will come back to you threefold.

Because of this, I am thankful that I have loved.

“You’re the one who is weak. You will never know love or friendship. And I feel sorry for you.”

Harry Potter, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix


A short mourning

      It is curious how the death of someone you’ve never met can affect you in a profound way.       Alan Rickman passed away today. He was widely known as a superb actor and generous man. Harry Potter fans knew him as Professor Snape. But those of us who have reread the series and tromped around in our house robes, he embodied Snape in an unforgettable way. And for fans elbow-deep in the fandom, who are Slytherins and proud of it, he was our head of house. 

      Even out of his robes and with gray rather than pitch black locks, smiling instead of scowling, Rickman was our leader. I had immense respect for him in many capacities. His support for the young actors in Harry Potter was unparalleled. He flew to New York City just to see Daniel Radcliffe in a Broadway performance after the series ended. His dedication to the arts made stories seem so important in a harsh, data-driven world. And he held on to Harry Potter as dearly as fans did. 

      I raise my wand to you, Mr. Rickman, Professor Snape. Always.