To Love Existence
To love existence is to awaken each morning into astonishment, not because life is easy or kind, but because it exists at all. To love is to participate in the fragile miracle of being, to open your eyes not only to what shines, but also to what hurts, decays, and ends, and still say yes.
1. The Light We See
Love the sunrise, not for its light alone, but for its quiet courage to return after darkness. Love the sunset, for its calm acceptance that every brilliance must yield to night. Love dawn, that hesitant breath between sleep and awakening, when the world has not yet decided what it will be. Love dusk, that tender unravelling, when the day exhales its last color.
Love butterflies, those fleeting poems written by the air. Love fireflies, the stars that forgot the sky and made peace with the earth. Love rain, which teaches us that even heaven must sometimes weep to cleanse itself. Love silence, for it carries the weight of all unspoken kindness. Love those who smile not because life is perfect, but because their souls have learned grace. Love those who are humble, who meet you with eyes that neither claim nor conquer.
Love those who forgive the way rivers do, remembering the stone but flowing anyway. Love those who forget your errors and choose to see your attempt to be good. Love the invisible, the unseen acts of care, the roots that feed the forest, the wind that carries the seeds.
2. The Shadows We Must Embrace
But do not love only the light. Love the shadows too, the places where beauty hides in its rawest form. Love the autumn leaf, for its final surrender is the purest kind of grace. Love the empty chair, the silence that follows laughter, the ache of memory; they are proof that love once lived there.
Love the friction that tests you, the mountain that refuses to move, the failure that humbles, the loneliness that teaches you to listen. Love the roughness of being alive, for it polishes the heart. Love imperfection, not as a defect but as a design, the uneven rhythm that keeps existence breathing. Love the mud, for it births the lotus; love decay, for it returns everything to the source.
To love existence fully, you must love the broken parts, the noise, the mistakes, the misunderstandings, for they are not interruptions of life; they are life, unfolding in its unedited truth.
3. The Act of Loving
To love existence is not only to receive it, but to participate in its renewal. Love is a verb, a living gesture that adds beauty where none existed before. Love by creating: build a garden, write a poem, heal a wound, teach a child, listen without agenda. Love by noticing: the shared glance between strangers, the laughter echoing in a hallway, the scent of wet earth after rain. Love by mending: a broken word, a lost friendship, a part of yourself you once abandoned. Love the unfinished nature of everything, the world is not a completed poem but a draft in progress, and you are one of its sentences. To love existence is to keep writing it.
4. The Knowledge of Love
Perhaps love is not a feeling at all, but a way of knowing, a perception so deep it dissolves the border between the self and the world. To love existence is to finally see it: to recognize the sacred geometry in chaos, the endurance hidden within fragility, the unity concealed within contradiction.
Love does not demand perfection. It asks for presence. It asks that you stay awake, even when it hurts, even when it’s dull, even when it feels meaningless, because being here is the only miracle you will ever need.
5. The Return
And when you love existence in this way, without ownership, without expectation, it begins to love you back. Not by sparing you pain, but by giving your pain meaning. Not by protecting you from loss, but by showing you how deeply you can feel. Not by granting you control, but by revealing the holiness of surrender.
So love the sunrise and the quiet smile of a baby discovering the world for the first time. Love your dreams, your imagination, and the music that stirs forgotten corners of your soul. Love the rainbow after the storm and the stars that keep vigil in the silence of the night. Love the sunset, that soft farewell written in gold across the sky. Love the butterflies, the passing strangers, the tender silences, and the beautiful mistakes. Love what begins with hope, what ends with grace, and even what never comes to be. Love it all: the fragile, the fierce, the unfinished, the magnificent whole of it.
For in loving existence, you help it breathe. And in keeping it alive, you become a spark in its infinite, unfolding light.
