Category: Understanding Love

When we’re hurt, we strengthen our walls to the world—so that we might not get hurt again.

When we’re loved, we lower our guard to the world—so that we might be loved again.

The thing about being loved, however, is that it requires a lowering of our guard. And the ones who need it the most are the ones who have been hurt the most and have fortified walls against not just those who have hurt them in the past, but most everybody.

And so it begs the question: how do we keep our walls strong against those who might hurt us while simultaneously keeping our guard low enough to welcome the chance of love into our lives?

While I don’t think there’s one universal answer… I think a few additional inner work questions may give you then answer(s) you need for yourself…

• The entrance to the fortress is through a guarded gate… what does your guarded gate look like? i.e. How do you vet people before welcoming them into your fortress? What might this look like ideally?
• And for returning folks, do you believe how they’ve acted inside your fortress in the past or the promises they make about how they’re going to act this time?
• Are you walled up on a high hill in some obscure, untraveled to part of the world where nobody visits? Or are you engaging with the world and exposing your fortress to a variety of different people in a variety of different situations?
• Where are the people you’d most likely love to welcome into your fortress hanging out? How can you overlap your path with theirs?

Judge not a person’s character by how they act around people they like, want, or need.

Judge a person’s character by how they act around people they dislike, don’t want, and have no need for.

The latter will tell you everything you need to know.

On three separate occasions yesterday, I was asked business related questions without any kind of greeting.

First, an email from an associate. Second, a text from a staff member. And finally, in reality from an instructor who works at the martial arts school I manage who hit me with three questions as I walked in the door to the school before saying so much as “Hi.”

…And what startled me was that I interrupted this instructor mid-question and said, “Hey [instructors name]! I hope you had a nice labor day weekend. How’s everything?” …And still didn’t even get so much as a “Hi.” They were completely lost in the midst of their business.

Or… maybe better spelled… their busyness.

This isn’t a shot at anyone mentioned above. Heck, there have been plenty of times when I’ve been guilty of the same. It’s merely an observation.

I know there are things that need to get done. But is the extra minute you gain by skipping the greeting worth the feeling you give them of not feeling seen?

Yesterday, I spent the day at a friend’s cabin.

The cabin was situated in a beautifully wooded area, had a fire pit, a swimming pond, a grill, and was filled to the brim with food and drinks.

What I found interesting was the following:

…When we all finally gathered, we walked to the swimming pond—and sat at a table and mostly talked by the water.

…After that, we walked back to the cabin and had a fire-grilled dinner—and mostly chatted as we ate.

…We then started a fire and gathered close by as the flames mesmerized us—into even more warm and relaxed conversation.

…And we eventually played a little music and danced around the flickering, glowing light—as the evening unraveled into raw stories, vulnerable shares, and belly laughs.

…Really all we did was walk, talk, eat, drink, and dance.

Going to the cabin by nature with a pond and a fire pit was just the excuse.

…Did it add an extra element to experience? Yes, of course.

But the thought I found myself circling back to was this: what people think they want is a fancy cabin in the woods that has a swimmable pond and a fire pit… but what they really want is an excuse to connect with the people they love and align with.

…And all that’s really needed for that is an intention and an invitation.

Don’t miss the connection for the cabin.

I came across a story today of a mom who had been telling her daughters the same phrase for the past several years as they would exit the car to go to school:

“Be friends with the friends who don’t have friends.”

And that one line covers so much ground.

1) “Be friends”: it’s a verb. You have to be the one that smiles, says “Hi” first, asks interesting questions, and does so intentionally and repeatedly.

2) “…with the friends”: The assumption is that they’re already our friends, we just haven’t made the connection yet. They’re not our enemies or strangers. Most people want to feel seen and heard more than anything else and this assumption helps tremendously with taking the actions in step 1—assuming also that you’re in a contextually safe space to do so.

3) “…who don’t have friends.”: Feeling invisible or ostracized or lonely is one of the worst feelings we humans might experience. The person who changes that for us can create meaning that’s felt proportionally in the opposite direction. And in so doing, creates a similarly strong connection, too.

Try sharing this with your kids. And if you don’t have kids, try modeling this type of energy yourself. You’d be surprised how much ground this one expression, when practiced, can help even you cover in your life.

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P.s. If you’re enjoying these morning 1-minute messages, would you mind sharing this link: https://matthogan.blog/hi with someone else who might enjoy it? ‘Preciate you all :)

A friend called me during a work shift yesterday and I had to send her to voicemail.

She texted me shortly thereafter several happy birthday memes and it made me smile.

I texted her later that day saying thank you and that I was sorry I couldn’t answer.

She said, “Oh that’s okay. As long as you feel celebrated that’s all I care about.”

And boy did that line make my day.

The paradox of love is that the deeper you’re in it, the more vulnerable you are to the pain of its loss.

That’s what makes love so scary.

Its impermanence. Its fragility. The fact that it comes with no guarantee.

People promise forever… to have and to hold, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, for as long as they both shall live… and yet, often end up getting divorced well before they’re anywhere close.

And it doesn’t take many deep experiences of pain before guardrails are built.

And what many people might do is put a throttle on their love. Hold back. Build safety mechanisms that prevent them from going all in and risk feeling a proportionally deep pain again.

But… that’s the paradox of love. The less vulnerable you are to the pain of its potential loss… the more shallow the love will feel.

And shallow love is no way to love.

It is indeed as Lord Tennyson suggests, “‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

Maybe it’s just that we shouldn’t promise forever… and should promise instead to always love fully. No throttles. No holding back. No assumption that now will take care of forever.

Just the promise of no guardrails. Not with you. Not in any of the renewing nows.

Just a limitless sky above and bottomless pit of the emotional spectrum.

For you. For me. For us.

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P.s. This idea is what inspired the poem, Don’t Say Forever.