I refuse to live my life in fear. Instead of being concerned that people will physically harm me, judge me, or do any number of bad things to me: I expect to be loved. When I walk down the street and view each person as a friend, likely to love and support me if given the chance, the world is a beautiful place.

Maybe my perspective is skewed because, when I look for goodness in my life and in other people, I see it easily. I don’t search for faults or anticipate impending tragedies. I prefer to be surprised when treated badly rather than expect it. This is the way I want to live. I refuse to live my life in fear.

I have lived for twenty-four years and this is the conclusion I have reached about humankind—that I choose to love people instead of fear them. None of those years have been lived in Ukraine. Only a few scattered months, during the last couple years, have I occupied other countries. I realize that terrible things happen daily around the world but I don’t choose to be a disciple of the fear/tragedy based American media. Love is my teacher, my master, and myself. Not just on paper but in the deepest parts of my soul.

I am not so naïve as to think that nothing bad will ever happen in my life. I expect and welcome difficult experiences that teach me how to love more deeply. Real love isn’t written in pencil, to be erased when things get tough and you don’t feel like loving anymore.

I read a poem (The Prophet by: Kahlil Gibran) a few days ago that took my breath away with the truth of its’ statements:

“When love beckons to you--follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

…And when he speaks to you--believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

… All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.”

The word, “Yes,” in a thousand different languages, echoes through my body when I read that poem. To love is the easiest and hardest thing I will ever do in my entire life. My dreams will be shattered, my strength will be tested, and my ideals will be questioned as I push myself into the depths of my soul looking for the true ability to love. Love is not just a verb; Love is my identity. Love is our identity.

When I recognize each person’s identity as Love, how can I fear them? When we encounter people who are intentionally hurtful, mean, annoying, or frustrating—we have an opportunity to increase our merit by loving them. Another radical idea from my favorite Buddhist book: ‘We should feel thankful to our “enemies” for teaching us how to forgive and be patient.’ I agree wholeheartedly!

I’ve lived with this truth for about a week now. I tried to explain it to the guys last night and only partially succeeded; maybe due to the Russian/English language barrier or maybe the radical-ness of the idea. Here’s the example I used: what if someone beats me up very badly. On the spectrum of understanding our oneness, this person is obviously on the opposite end from me. If he or she knew that we were one, they wouldn’t ever consider hurting me. Knowing this, I will forgive them—understanding that their actions are a result of what their life experiences have taught them. I will also feel grateful to them for giving me the opportunity to understand the depths of forgiveness and love. If I can forgive even someone who physically beats me, how much easier will it be to forgive other offenses?

We struggled for a few minutes with this topic, with the guys sort of shaking their heads at me, then one guy suggested that maybe I am a masochist. Laughter exploded out of me, and everyone actually. I suspect this won’t be the last time someone thinks this about me. Like in the poem, I want to learn all the parts of love even if it crucifies me.

Later during our discussion last night, one of the guys asked me what I believe. The words, “I believe in love” danced out of mouth without hesitation and I discovered there wasn’t any more to say. That’s the whole story: beginning, middle, and end.