"And, in the end, the love you take...

...is equal to the love you make."  Paul McCartney added that philosophical couplet to the to the of "The End".  And it can take a lifetime's worth of lessons to feel the truth of that.

It becomes the theme of this post because, as I was watching Rebel Without A Cause a few days ago, it reminded me of that song.  There is a scene inside the mansion, where Judy and Jim are hanging out upstairs, and says, with reverence, "I love somebody. All the time I've been... I've been looking for someone to love me. And now I love somebody. And it's so easy. Why is it easy now".  I think it was easy for her, and for Jim, because they were open to it, and because, in the course of a day, their world view had totally shifted.

Here's the thing though:  at the heart of them, Rebel Without a Cause, The Wizard of Oz, and Field of Dreams are all about that very same idea.  Finding your capacity for greatness within yourself and not waiting for it to knock on your door, or show up on a yellow-brick road, or in a cornfield.

There is a moment, I think, that when the universe delivers the person who will become THE Person, there is a moment where you realize that who you have found may not have been who you thought you were looking for.  And in that moment of realization, you have two choices.  You can be surprised, and caught off guard and just go with it, or you can fight it.  And if you have the guts to say "that is my Person, and I have no idea why, but everything that is happening feels absolutely like what I am supposed to be doing" then you will be rewarded with a great relationship, a great love and overall greatness.  Your friends may say, "Why are you building that baseball field in your corn?", but you do it because you are compelled, because you have to do it.  If you didn't do it, you might as well not do anything.  That is what love was like, is like for me.  That is what loving my husband is like.  It was the universe smacking me on the back of the head and saying "See that guy?  That's him."  And it was, it is.  It was totally uncharted territory for me.  I had thought I had known love, but it was like the difference between seeing a Keanu Reeves version of Citizen Kane, and thinking it was okay, and then seeing Welles in 70mm.  Earth-shattering and mind-blowing.

In The Wizard of Oz, Dorothy has the power, has always had the power, and just didn't know it.  In Rebel, Judy and Jim realize that their capacity to love is more, so much more important, than how much they are loved by others.  It is your capacity to love that makes you feel alive.  Not the anger, the frustration, any of that.  It is all in your capacity to love.

In Field of Dreams when Ray's dad shows up at the end, he says "Oh, God, it was you."  Thinking that he had built this field so that his emotionally distant father would come so that they could reconnect.  And Shoeless Joe Jackson turns to Ray, from way out there in deep center field, and says, "No, Ray.  It was you."  The best thing ever.  That even though no one would ever think they were building a baseball field to heal themselves, that's what it was really for.  It was Ray's immense capacity for love of his father, his family, and of the game, that made the ghosts happen.  "If you build it, he will come."  And I love Field of Dreams.  It's a transcendent film, and people throw it away, but I unapologetically love it.

So if you are looking for anything out there (love, inspiration, genius, soul), you have to, have to look inside yourself.  It's all in there:  ruby slippers, a baseball field, a rebel without a cause.  All of it is inside you.  All of it.  Everyday.  The capacity to love, to be great, to be rebellious, to be powerful, life-changing, earth-shattering, mind-blowing.

So, after all of that, I would like to thank my husband.  For helping me understand my capacity and ability to love.  We have been married for 16 years now, and I am still sometimes so overwhelmed with love for him that I cry.  There are songs I could hear a thousand times, and I would cry every time, because I love him so much.  So thank you, Mr. B., and happy anniversary.