The Theory of Everything

World renowned physicist Stephen Hawking speculated there is a grand theory that would solidify the universe. That underneath all the complex mathematical questions, there is a key to unlock them all that is elegant in design; a galactic thread that runs through every star and stellar incubator, and the unimaginable space and matter in between.

As 2016 ends and another year begins, I once again find myself in a reflective state. A breath to take stock and recalibrate. As I continue to age I notice that time doesn’t hold the same properties it once did. I am amazed how I once moved through it with such abundant resilience, undaunted by the present, with a future that did not frighten me. Time offered me security in my world, an endless ability to steer my destiny in any direction I wanted to go, that I suppose all youth feel. Time was a gauzy mist that I danced freely through.

Now, time weighs considerably more. The mist has grown murky and it is harder to see my way, my movement is not quite as free. For once upon a time, I optimistically put on my responsibilities like a brand new coat, stuffing every pocket with shiny trinkets, and though it is comfortable to wear it is also cumbersome.

As time moves me forward, giving me different people and responsibilities and joys in life, I have shifted from chasing all that glitters to mining for the solid gold. The thing that will give meaning to my insignificance in the world. My fruitless everyday efforts.

And I think I’ve found it. The universal meta that threads everything together. Love.

Don’t misunderstand me, “love” is often an overused and misused word. Too often it is a noun, laden with dreamy and superficial descriptors. Fickle and temporary. It should also be—it should mostly be—a verb, an ever-changing action that demonstrates our character and goes beyond romantic relationships. Love as a verb includes our children, our friends, our vocation, and our families by choice.

I use to think loving well meant perfection. I had well-meaning ideals that I believed to be a failure if I could not give or take in my prescribed manner. But over the years, I’ve changed my mind. Loving well is a messy affair. It’s a life-long practice of pursuing and keeping and losing; an endless cycle of disappointment and immense fulfillment. Yet without partaking in such a gruesome ordeal, we lose what it is to be our selves. Loving well takes courage and fortitude and humility. We will mess up. Sometimes badly. Sometimes often. And if we’re lucky, we have people in our lives who are willing to be all these things alongside us with awareness and patience.

And if we’re not so lucky, we will lose love through death, or illness, or divorce, or the other countless ways love can slip away from us in silent neglect and unintended injury. But even through our most painful losses, loving well has the power to leave us transformed. Love can gift us abilities for compassion and joy and peace. It is growth through our pain and missteps. It is our beauty and our ugliness, our kindness and our cruelty. Love is our way of being in the universe that sets us apart from everything else and declares us human.

2016 has been a rough year for many of us. I know. It certainly has been for me. As we travel through time together, as our lives develop and grow more complex, as our ability for collateral damage to those around us increases, we wonder what can give us redemption? What can we hope for? What is the grand theory that will make sense out of our chaos?

I say it is love. The pursuit of it. The keeping of it. The loss of it.

May you love well in 2017.