Kourtney Jorge, let me first take a minute to apologize on behalf of the society I am a part of. The society that reduced your hurt to a hashtag and blame game. As I watched your video on YouTube, my Time Line played in the back of my mind and I felt that I saw your hurt, forgiveness and hope through parents in a room, arguing over their child, to the point they didn’t realize that anyone could have picked you up, given you a hug and told you that everything is going to be OK. But the society I’m a part of lacks Love. Every situation is about us, and reality TV has told us that no situation has value unless we have commented on it, hit the Like button or expressed a reaction where the powerful feelings we have inside are displayed as emojis, as we scroll on with our lives. We’re glad that we can spend time to find blame for your hurt because, that way, we avoid the blank stare that would ensue the questioning from behind weeping eyes, because our pride has brought us to a point that we have lost the ability to provide loving solutions to hurtful problems.
As the clamour of gossip and disagreement echoed in the back of my mind, from people so in need of being heard themselves, your situation becoming theirs and then becoming them, I sipped a French Vanilla coffee, silenced my mind so I could listen to understand and not respond. Then I watched you reach out, laying everything on the fine line produced by the glint of hope that flickered dimly and longingly. I heard your heart crack as you conveyed your soul to the response of “I think we are at the first stage of moving on”. Love dictated that you should open your palms, to reveal the butterfly that could have been your relationship, and allow yourself to be chosen. But the butterfly flew away.
Society has this horrible way of telling us that we are ugly because perceived beauty turned its back on us. Many around us have believed that lie and police this new status quo, fostering a species of emotionally weak and immature people.
The truth is, Ms. Jorge, you are one of many. One of many to have swallowed the bitter pill, given during one of Love’s real lessons. You may not be chosen.
There is a ready solution to your hurt, as there is for the many of us that have sat in Love’s often-harsh classroom. Some receiving the lesson. Some, sadly, as I have in the past, demonstrating an apt ability to teach the lesson. We must be pipelines of Love.
To be a pipeline is to not be the receptacle or the source but, rather, to be the deliverer of Love from a standard that isn’t our own. To be a pipeline is to have a constant renewing and refreshing of Love, diluting the bitter taste of lessons handed to us from pride, ego and malice.
Amid your hurt, you must retain your forgiveness and, at all costs, KEEP. ON. LOVING.