Do You Love Me?

I hear voices in my head. There. I said it. I hear voices often, even when I wear my tinfoil hat. I ask you, is that truly weird? I would be quite disconcerted to someday learn that ONLY crazy people hear such voices. I don’t think I’m crazy...but, then, how can one really be sure?

Anyway, I hear voices. And what I hear most often is a question: “Do you love me?”

“Do you love me?” the voice asks...quietly...yearningly...imploringly. The questioner has no face. The question comes at the oddest times, most unexpectedly, at any time of the day or night. I may be thinking of a childhood incident or a former lover. I may be passing a beggar on the street, standing in a cathedral apse, or staring at the night sky...only to hear the question as if it came from Orion’s very lips.

“Do you love me?” I always answer “yes.” The answer is always “yes.”

Still, the Faceless Questioner keeps questioning, and with ever greater frequency. This has been going on for more than thirty years. I think I’m finally beginning to understand. It is not enough to say yes to love. It is simply not enough. “Yes” is just a word (and a rather abbreviated one at that). “Do you love me?” can only be answered by living love. Ah, now it gets difficult. Love is an act of will. Love is deeds and actions and understanding and compassion and reverence.

Love is a mighty endeavor.

I am beginning to think that if I ever learn how to live as a truly loving human being, the question just might disappear. I would simply know the answer...and know that it was true.

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