Edward E. Wilson

The profound nakedness of true love is not about clothes. It is far riskier than that. Instead it is a nakedness of selves, of souls

We see each other underneath our daily masks. We lay bare our vulnerable feelings and those fragile yearnings to become and grow. We are witnessed in the awkward aspects we were mistakenly taught are shameful. We are seen in the difference between who we actually are and who we wish to become.

Our boundaries and defenses exist for us to navigate this jostling world, so prone to bump us in these sensitive bits, these old and open wounds. The love we crave cannot be let in with those defenses up. That which has been protecting us our whole lives is what keeps us starving and unhealed.

The only way from here to there is to take a risk, the beautiful, terrifying risk of opening up, of vulnerability, of intimacy.

And it is terrifying, because we can’t guarantee that the gift for which we opened our gate and took down our walls is not a trojan horse. When we open our rib cage to expose our heart, we become awfully easy to wound.

But this is also the only way it can be touched.

Suggested Reading:

all about love, bell hooks