They say that love is a verb. That it is dynamic, and active, and kinetic.
They also say that grief is not actually sorrow. They say that it is just a different expression of love. I suppose that makes sense.
But, to me, grief feels more like not being able to express love anymore for sudden lack of a receiving end. Grief doesn't feel like love, the verb - but it doesn't feel unlike it either.
To me, grief is the abrupt stymying of the action that love is. It is the desire to act in regard to a subject - when the subject has vanished - and the act can no longer be. Where love moves, grief is still.
Love fills and refills and tops off to overflowing.
Grief drips and drains and wilts and exhausts past the point of dregs.
It is not two faces of the same coin to me.
Grief is far more valuable. Lessons are learned in the stillness of grief.
Far less is learned in love.
Love is doing what we already know how to do for someone we desire to do it for.
Grief forces us to sit with what we've already completed - and know we've finished, we're done with that part, we can do no more... even if we greatly desire to continue to do more.
If love is kinetic energy, grief seems more like potential energy.
Potential energy waiting on another catalyst to set it in motion again.
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