“Stop and wait a sec, when you look at me like that darling, what did you expect?

I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck, or I did last time I checked.” 

The monkeys understand something that mere mortals have yet to comprehend.  Or perhaps it’s just Mr. Turner.  They are his words, after all. 

505 isn’t about love.  It’s about strength.  It’s about having the strength to love someone far away.  Someone who isn’t easy to love.  Someone you wish you didn’t love.  

It’s about respect.  Respect for the unseen that comes like a whirlwind, denying all logic.

“Middle of adventure, such a perfect place to start…” 

The question that begs for you to find a reason around reason.  You will never figure this out with your head.  Only your heart can solve it. 

It’s about strength.  The strength to do the inconvenient thing because your heart begs you for it.  You can look.  You can touch.  But you won’t find the thing you want most. 

For that you have to go back to 505.  You have to go back to that moment when you knew that everything was just as it should be in the world.  The moment you know you can recreate if you can just get back to 505.

 ”if it’s a 7 hour flight or a 45 minute drive…” 

Love isn’t easy, ever.  But most of the time it’s harder than anyone can handle.  It’s messy and complicated, full of mistakes and lies.  Everything that stands in our way stands between us and true love. 

It’s strange then that once we find it everything else falls into place… work, money, fun… it all falls into place.  Our vibration now attracting everything we ever wanted with no effort.  The universe waits for you to make one supreme effort.  To get back to 505.

If you can show yourself up as being made of strong stuff, the universe obliges with you with all that is desirable in the world.  

It makes sense, doesn’t it?  If you show the universe you’re strong enough to handle the most difficult and painful thing, you must be ready for the rest of it too, no?

So where do we go wrong?  Where do we lose our ability to say to one another, 

“I crumble completely when you cry…”

Life shapes us into these disfigured, scarred little toys and we play in our pens until we die.  Never having known the transcendence of love.  Never having escaped our bodies and their hurts.  Never having known that the cage door hangs open.  All we had to was walk out.  But our clay legs are mangled and we cannot walk.  We would rather sit inside, trapped by our own fears and insecurities. 

Your life could be so beautiful the quantum cries.  Your life is waiting for you.  Why do you run the wrong way?  

“I’m always about to go and spoil the surprise… take your hands off of your eyes too soon.” 

Without strength and resolve you lose not only love, real love, but by extension you lose at this wonderful thing called life.  Emptiness becomes your only friend.  

How awful for the weak.  How very awful.  Oh well.