I have to wonder if love means the same thing to everyone. It is such a wonderful word.
My old Sunday School teacher told me God was love.
People these days say that love is about sex. It is not. In my opinion.
Love is such a tricky word really.
Many years ago, I loved a Sicilian detective named Montalbano. Played by Luca Zingaretti. I loved him. Not in a spooky way. I just loved his way of working out the difference between law and justice.
My persona online became Montalano which has become Monty. One of my online friends called me " White Mountain " and that suited me rather nicely. He was a chap from Wyoming and we used to chat online on different blogs that we used to both frequent.
That being said, given that I am a female, blonde and not at all Italian. it was more about the vibe.
I haunted blogs as Montalbano and wrote many comments on law, justice, freedom of speech and love.
Love of country. Love of heritage. Love of everything we have held dear.
I love springtime when lawns are mowed and the smell of grass is in our nostrils.
To me, the joy of a real rainbow trumps a fake rainbow. Everyday. In fact, I remember driving towards a rainbow one late afternoon in the Australian Outback and it was like driving into paradise.
sorry not the actual rainbow but it was a picture that captured " the vibe"
I love ANZAC Day. I love the sound of the last post and I love the heartbeat of Australia when I hear Malcolm read the poem about the war horses.
I love the pulse of Australia when we play backyard cricket and watch " The Castle " for the thousandth time. I love watching old footage of the Leyland Brothers and I love hearing Steve Irwin saying " Crikey mate! "
After all, what is love?
As a poster said
I had a friend when I was a small boy. His name was Billy. I told my Gran that I loved him. She said to me " Paddy, do you like him or love him? "
I said " I think I love him Gran . "
My Gran replied " Do you want to kiss him? "
I looked at her in shock.
" No, That would be fookin awful. "
She kissed me on my head and said " That's alright lad. Love all the men you want. If you ever want to kiss them, I have a bar of soap waiting. "
Not wanting to have my mouth washed out with soap I decided that I didn't love Billy at all. In fact, Billy loved me.
I ended up kissing his younger sister and she was a good fookin kisser.
I never really liked Billy after that.
I often laugh when I think that Gran actually thought that I loved Billy " like that. "
Kids don't know what they are saying half the time.
He was an ugly little shite but I loved the way he could kick a football.
My point, I suppose, is that Love is a very open word.
Love is not about sex.
It is about caring and respect.
I used to love a blog written by Larry Pickering. What a larrakin he was. Did I love Larry Pickering? Absolutely.
We all did.
Love is being full of wonder about how something so simple as truth can be somehow enlightening. '
The truth that something so beautiful as a sunrise is triumphant. Or a butterfly on a leaf.
That a child being born is somehow the ultimate message of truth.
While people all over the world debate racial conflicts of who is right and who is wrong, people like me wonder what the problem is.
All people have a voice in the choir.
For myself, I love hearing rain on the roof. The joy of hearing crows in the morning and the going back to sleep until the other birds awaken me and I get out of bed to make my cup of tea.
Love is hearing from my daughter and my Mum and knowing that they are OK.
To be honest, love is about life.
It is not about sex.
Love is about wholesome and heartfelt regard for people.
I love roast lamb and gravy with a few roast potatoes. I love the sound of thunder when the lightning is crashing over canefields and I love my sunburnt country.
Believe it or not, I love the sound of a frog croaking outside my window after a shower of rain .
There is nothing I love more than a sausage sizzle at Bunnings, or a good old fashioned hamburger, when the beetroot runs down your arms and you have to slurp the juice or wipe it with a paper towel
I love the sound of the summer and the crickets. I love the smell of cane burning ready to be harvested.
I love the time Feather spent in the outback. I love seeing the sky painted grey and pink.
I love the time that Feather was saved by Aboriginals when she needed a helping hand.
I guess I love Australia.
I do NOT love division,.
In all of my many days on this place we call planet Earth, I have never seen so much hate.
Hatred has taken over Love. It must stop.
Say NO to the Voice and say NO to dividing Australia because, you know what?
There is no love in division.
However, who can ever question the delight of romance? Now that, my friends, is another story.
