What Would Love Do?

Something cracked open in me this weekend.

It didn’t happen all at once—more like a slow unfolding. A soft moment here, a quiet realization there. Space to breathe. Space to feel. And in that space, I saw something I hadn’t wanted to see.

In some of my relationships—intimate, familial, even professional—I’ve been coming from fear, not love.

It’s humbling to admit that. But it’s the truth.

And once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it.

What Fear Sounds Like

Fear is subtle. Sometimes it dresses up as caution, other times as control. It can sound like silence. Like withholding. Like planning your escape while pretending to stay.

Fear convinces us that it’s wise. That it’s keeping us safe. But really, it’s a relic—an echo of the places we’ve been hurt and haven’t yet healed.

It says things like:

• If you speak your truth, you’ll lose them.

• If you’re too much, they’ll leave.

• If you’re not enough, they’ll never choose you.

• If you open, you’ll be hurt.

Fear builds walls around our tenderness.

It says protect yourself at all costs.

But here’s what I remembered this weekend—what I felt more than I understood:

Love remembers more.

What Is Love, Really?

In The Created Life, we wrote:

Love is consciousness returning to itself.

It’s not a mood. It’s not a performance.

It’s a sacred recognition.

The soul remembering itself.

The undoing of separation.

The moment awareness meets itself again and says, Ah, yes. I know this place.

We also offered this:

Love is the full acceptance of what is, and the full willingness to be with what could be.

Love is not passive.

Love is a force.

It holds reality in one hand and possibility in the other.

Love says:

• I will not abandon myself to be accepted.

• I will not abandon you when you reveal who you are.

• I trust the deeper intelligence moving through life.

• I believe healing is possible—even here.

Love doesn’t mean you never flinch, never falter, never fear.

It means you return anyway.

Back into presence. Back into your heart. Back into truth.

The Power of a Question

There is a question that changes everything. One that dissolves illusion and brings you back to the core of your being:

What would love do?

Not:

• What would be safest?

• What would get approval?

• What would look best?

• What would avoid conflict?

But—what would love do?

This is not a question for perfect people.

It’s a question for those of us who forget and want to remember.

It’s a compass, not a command.

Sometimes love speaks truth with shaking hands.

Sometimes love stays silent and listens.

Sometimes love walks away.

Sometimes love dares to stay.

It doesn’t guarantee ease. But it guarantees alignment.

A World Built on Fear

Let’s be honest. We live in a world largely built on fear.

We fear not having enough—so we hoard and compete.

We fear rejection—so we perform and protect.

We fear difference—so we divide and dominate.

We fear loss—so we cling, control, and numb.

And these fears?

They’re not just personal.

They’ve been baked into our systems—our economies, our schools, our religions, our relationships.

Fear is the architect of much of what we see around us.

But love?

Love is the original blueprint.

A World Returning to Love

What if more of us paused long enough to ask:

What would love do here?

In this conversation?

In this conflict?

In this moment of choice?

Not idealized love. Not convenient love.

But clear, steady, present love.

A world returned to love wouldn’t be perfect.

But it would be different.

We would remember how to repair.

How to see one another.

How to hold pain without weaponizing it.

How to honour our shared belonging, even when we disagree.

We would build relationships—and systems—on truth, care, and collective healing.

We would grow braver in our tenderness.

We would finally feel safe enough to be real.

The Return

Here’s the deeper truth: we forget.

We all do.

We fall into fear. Into habit. Into old wounds.

But love isn’t about never forgetting.

Love is about remembering faster.

It’s about the return.

Again and again.

Back to presence.

Back to wholeness.

Back to the truth of who we are.

And maybe the most radical act of love is this:

To love from exactly where you are.

Not the polished version of you. Not the “healed” version.

The real one.

Because love doesn’t wait for perfection.

Love is the path.

So I leave you with this:

Next time you’re uncertain…

When fear is loud…

When your mind races or your heart closes…

Pause.

Breathe.

Ask.

What would love do?

And then—do that.

Even if it’s uncomfortable.

Even if it’s quiet.

Even if it breaks you open.

Do that.

Because that—

That is the way home.