There is photographer’s light and there is writer’s light. Today, writer’s light, a day of heavy and continuous rain, I rode my stationary bike instead of walking, Maria and I went out to take care of the animals together, wading through the muck and manure. I went out to take some photos and Maria waited for me. In our relationship, we always respect creativity, we never get annoyed with one another for stopping to take a photo, make a sketch, look at the light.

When I headed back to the house I saw the photo I had been looking for, the one I take every morning to capture the feel of the day. It was my love, my life, waiting for me in her $8 imported (Thrift Store) French boots. She was holding a dish she uses to bring treats to the donkeys and sheep and chickens every morning – every morning.

Walking to the porch, I wondered, “can you love someone too much?” Sometimes, my heart just overflows with love, this is the light for me. I imagine you can love someone too much, and without reservation or boundary. We do have boundaries. This morning, she will vanish into her magical studio and me into my study and we will not see one another until much later, when we get to share the news of the day. We argue sometimes, get annoyed, see things differently.

I’m not sure what it means to love someone too much, but I don’t think it feels good or healthy. Maria always feels good to me, nourishing and uplifting. I hope she feels the same way, I think she does. A good love is not a perfect love, a good love, like a good spiritual life, is as much about handling problems as it is handling affection. We have traveled along road together, it feels as if our journey is just beginning.

I think we both have learned what to do when something feels unhealthy. Quite often, someone in a marriage will look at us and say pointedly, “oh, you’re just newlyweds, just wait a few years.”  I’m never sure what they mean by it, it sounds cynical to me, although I know what it is to be in a marriage for a long time. That can be a beautiful thing, I know many long-married couples who are happy and in love, who are an inspiration to me and to Maria.

I won’t speak ill of marriage anymore than I will speak ill of my work and my life. I don’t know if one can love someone too much, or if I do love someone too much. I am grateful to get the chance to wonder. Love is the point.

I’m holed up in my study, Red at my feet, Lenore on the couch, two candles going, the sound of rain off of the slate roof. The horses did not come to me this morning, I get a day off from the Twisted Ballet, I am itching to get to New York City and see them. I am basking in writer’s light.