Paging through an abandoned book on the enneagram, I stumbled across this Rumi poem:
"The way of love is not
a subtle argument.
The door there
is devastation.
Birds make great sky-circles
of their freedom.
How do they learn it?
The fall, and falling,
they're given wings."
Swell with courage, take the plunge, discover your wings, discover your capacity the fly and thrive. The terror of love is great, but the rewards are plenty.
