Love story

A short tale about the realization of inner love, the source of true love.

At first, she treated me with great affection.
So my affection for her grew, and grew.
Even when I tried to stop it, I was unable.
Because I noticed that my attempt made her suffer.
When I tried to be distant, I saw her with her head down, and I could not bear it.

Eventually my affection for her overwhelmed me.
Occupying my mind, my thoughts, my being.
I used to imagine sharing with her every moment, every experience. I’m in love with her, clearly.
So I could not hide my great affection anymore.

But it happened that she had already changed her mind.
She had already decided to restrain her affection for me, because it was not convenient for her.
What I had not been able to do, was no problem for her.
So she rejected me, without any care.
And his dealings with me became formal, polite, correct … cold. No more affection from her.
We distance ourselves. We did not see each other anymore.

However, I wrote to her from time to time.
I wrote it with tenderness, with affection, opening my soul, as always.
But she always responded intellectually, analytically, with distance.

One night, after reading his cold reply, I realized that I was happy.
How was it possible?
She no longer offered me any affection, but even so, the mere mental contact, through e-mails, from a long distance, made me happy.
Then I realized that the happiness I felt was not produced by her.
It were impossible, because she was closed to me, she was not giving anything, anymore, to me.

Where did that happiness come from?
Focusing my attention carefully on the sensation, I saw it flowing from me. From within,
There was no reason for such happiness, even so there it was, subtle, but real, as if there was still mutual affection.

I realized then that I could live, feel, that state, a state of love-happiness, independently, by myself. She was not producing it, no longer, no more, never more.
She had only opened a door to my inner source of love; and I could keep the door open, even though she no longer loved me.

Thus, currently I remain in love, happy. But not in love for her, I’m in love. Within love.
And I stopped writing her. I no longer need her. I do not bother her anymore.

The inner reality of love can be recognized only by love. Hans Urs von Balthasar

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