Soul is the key element of making love. Your soul can think like your mind does. It can yearn the way your body yearns. But it combines the two into passion. True passion. The body’s needs are like a whining child: “I want I want I want!!!” Loud, needy, clingy. The minds needs are too methodical to have life: “I want because of (insert a billion and a half practical reasons).” Practical, pragmatic, lacking conviction. But the soul joins the truth of the mind and the need of the body into passion. And making love is all about passion; the passion for life. And that’s why the death metaphor for it is worthwhile. Because all throughout the grieving process, the process of death, one truly sees life for what it is. It is why we are ashamed to look upon a dead being: why should we try to reconcile that dead flesh with the living human when the two aren’t even in the same realm of existence? We are afraid of not living. But we go to another extreme with making love. This blatant celebration of life and the ability to create life scares people. It scares them because making love is so potent and beautiful and because it is everything that it’s cracked up to be. We are scared of living, but are also too scared not to live while we can. Making love is truly living. It is celebrating life by showing that the truest expression of love can exist, can be the only hope in a world filled with war and pain. Having sex is simply an imitation of making love.
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