When the boys were little and shared a room, I sang to them at night before they slept.

"As I walked this evening
with the smell of wood smoke clinging
like a gentle cobweb hanging
upon a painted teepee..."

It was a natural thing between us and it came easily. I didn't think about it then but now it seems my voice wove around and within them and kept them feeling safe through the night. Even though we were not in the same room, I was present. We were connected.

As we grow, when we have learned to care for ourselves, when we have felt secure in the love of our parents, we don't need that same level of interaction, but the invisible connection remains.

We are in different cities now and talk once or twice a week. The bond is there, the talk refreshes the connection.

In the study of love, we are eager to talk about and explore passion,
romance. It's tempting to start where the most energy is. Isn't making love the study of love? It's good though to study also the foundation of how a human experiences and expresses love.

I am studying love. I start with the observation of mothers with
infants, our first experience with human love. I look at them in stores and washrooms, airplanes and coffee houses. Moms with good eye contact, unresponsive moms. Moms with gentle voices, bossy moms. I look at what the child needs to do to get this mom's attention.

I start with my mother and me.

The study of love occupies many lifetimes. Such a vital trip!