downward. Luckily, the stories I’ve chosen to convey here are nestled closer to the elephant zone, a good thing when you’re writing a book of personal essays built on memories. I’ve done my best to retell everything as accurately as possible and have made note if a piece of any story remains blurry. Though I have not conveyed conversations verbatim, I’ve locked onto their essence and, in some cases, a lot of the actual words spoken. Also, I’ve changed a bunch of names — of people and locations — but only to keep anonymity intact and not because I don’t remember the real ones.
About fifteen years ago a good friend asked me, “What do you want to do with your life?” Doesn’t that question drive you nuts? That was hardly the first time I’d been asked it, and I’d never had a suitable answer that felt connected to some clear destiny or deep longing. Yes, there was a time in middle school when I desperately wanted to be a professional tennis player, even though I wasn’t especially good at the sport. The longing was there, though; I played and fantasized about tennis constantly and saw myself battling Boris Becker on the grasses of Wimbledon. My passion for tennis faded through high school, since I preferred to imagine myself onstage with Bono, belting out “Desire.” As a generally directionless adult, I’d always envied my professional friends who had known since childhood exactly how they wanted to spend their time as grown-ups. I never had a clue.
“Really, what do you want to do with your life?” my friend pressed, when I still hadn’t answered him.
I’d like to never have to answer this question again, that’s what, I thought.
I bypassed the impulse to say travel the world and just be happy, trusting I could summon a little more depth in my answer. “I want to spread as much love as possible,” I responded. Cue the rainbows and unicorns! Can I get a puppy over here?
I’m not sure my answer was deep, but it was the truth.
“Okay,” my friend replied, “how do you want to do that?” Pain in the ass, that friend.
“I have no idea,” I said. That was the truth, too. I didn’t know exactly what the role of love-spreader entailed, but it felt like a life goal to which I could commit myself, one that came with an important benefit our world desperately needed — love, love, and more love. More than anything, I believed in love, and in the power of love to create important, positive change. I still believe that, as much as ever.
Seriously, what’s not to love about love?
Love makes the most difference in every area that matters.
It always has, and it always will.
We can all be love-spreaders, by the way, if we choose to be. You don’t even need to quit your day job. Every time we act with kindness or acceptance, we spread love. Every time we choose compassion over condemnation, we spread love. Every time we find the courage to forgive, we spread love. Life presents us with daily opportunities to share a little, or a whole lotta love. Every single time we do, an angel sprouts new wings and cries silver tears of joy. Okay, that angel thing doesn’t really happen, but we do absolutely serve ourselves and our world through love.
Isn’t that reason enough to love more? I think so.
It was with fame rather than love in mind that I launched my Facebook author page in 2012. I wanted to promote both a kids’ movie and a young adult paranormal romance I’d written. As it turned out, the crowds didn’t flock to either. After some feeble attempts at self-promotion, along with the realization that marketing myself made me anxious / want to vomit, I changed the direction of the page. The question, What do you want to do with your life? became, What do you want to do with this page? I came up with the same answer: spread some love.
I decided to make my page a home of positivity, a Pollyanna’s paradise. I began posting about the subjects that mattered most to me, such as kindness, compassion, forgiveness, authenticity and, of course, love. I happy-memed the hell out of that page, and people started to notice. The page took off — hundreds and then thousands began showing up — and I was deliriously excited to have found another outlet for my love-spreading desires. My ego, incidentally, felt equally excited to be getting likes all the time.
Being in the heart-and-soul meme business can get tricky, however. How many different ways could one communicate the meaning of life — or a meaning of life — in a sentence or two? There weren’t enough creative fonts and nature backgrounds on the planet to make everything I wrote compelling. Or unique. I knew that. We self-help, spirituality, personal-development types are all saying the same things, more or less: kindness matters, compassion is king (or queen), love wins, just be yourself. These are good things to say, I think. Important reminders. But are they enough?
I thought so, until a woman commented beneath one of my standard life is so beautiful and we’re all blessed to be here posts: “Not everybody is as happy and positive as you are all the time, Scott. Some of us are really struggling.” That comment hurt — not just because I considered myself a particularly moody person who struggled plenty, but also because my happy words had provoked her to feel worse instead of better, “less than” instead of equal. That sucked. Of course, based on what I’d been posting on my page, she had no reason to see me as anything but a smiling Pollymanna. Why would she see us as the same?
So I started to share myself. For real.
I wrote about growing up with a brother addicted to heroin and grieving my parents, who were murdered when I was fourteen. I posted about the shame I carried for years over being gay, and my struggle to be authentic in a world that wants us to be anything but. I wrote about my fears and insecurities, my sadness and rage, and the ways in which I was working through the darker parts of my life in order to create more space for the light. Don’t panic; my page didn’t suddenly turn all gloom and doom. There was still a lot of love rocks and gratitude is the fastest path to happiness going on. I just let myself be more honest, and more vulnerable. The community that gathered around the page responded in kind, and suddenly many of us felt a lot less alone — in our idiosyncrasies and in our pain. Some version of I feel better knowing I’m not the only one became one of the most common comments I’d see. Honesty and vulnerability are nothing but love in action, after all.
Shortly after I began writing this book, I stood in front of the mirror and asked myself, “What do you want Big Love to do?” An important question, the answers to which I have no control over. A man can hope, though, so…
I’d like this book to remind you that you are not alone, not by a long shot. We are all imperfect; we all have busy, fearful minds; and we all struggle. Every single one of us, every single day. I’d like the book to emphasize that you are as worthy of love as anyone who has ever lived, and that nothing you do could ever make you any less worthy. Or more worthy, for that matter. I’d like it to encourage you to take responsibility for every aspect of your life, knowing that by empowering yourself this way, you set yourself up for deeper peace and greater joy. I’d like it to open you up to perspectives you may not have considered, or reinforce ones you may have forgotten, all of which will lead to a more open and honest relationship with yourself and others. Most important, I’d like this book to inspire you to consider love as the guiding force in your life, regardless of circumstance. Nothing stands to transform us, our relationships, and our world, more than a commitment to live our lives from love. The bigger the better.
Oh, and I hope you laugh more than a little, and I’d like the book to sell at least a million copies.
That’s what I’d like. What about you? What brings you to Big Love?
Perhaps you’ve picked it up because you’re a fan of my Facebook page and want to see if I can actually communicate in more than memes. Or perhaps you love the cover and, like me, sometimes choose books and wine bottles solely because of their pretty labels. It works for me at least 25 percent of the time! Maybe you’re just a fan of love, and the bigger the better, so Big Love