Love is not always so sweet. Sure, the syrupy quality of love is often a bit “in our face” during February, but we know from our own experience that love can get down-right mucky at times. The gritty, dirty, grubby underbelly of love doesn’t get much coverage. It’s too bad. Which brings me to the earthworm. 

When I was little, I learned some valuable lessons from an earthworm. While it might sound like an unlikely teacher to some, know that I enjoyed much of my childhood playing in the woods, happily digging in the dirt, hair entangled. Back in those early days, I remember learning that, when cut in half, worms can regenerate and grow a new tail. Talk about resilience! This icky truth piqued my curiosity and desire to understand what could inspire the worm to grow back. As I grew older, I came to understand that, when it comes to growth and thriving, “it’s complicated.” Now, the biological details are important concerning the circumstances and conditions allowing this healing to go down, as is the type of worm, but let’s dig for the larger lesson here. How might we heal out of our own wounds?  

Were it not for love, we would not have access to the motivation and drive to grow, learn, care, and love in return. I recall the research study conducted about 70 years ago now by Harry Harlow with rhesus monkeys that suggests love is essential to promoting healthy development. Could it be that love is as essential to our growth as food, water, and safety? What if we considered love as foundational to our capacity to thrive; a core competency we may spend a lifetime improving upon? Which brings me back to the earthworm . . .

How do we respond under stress? When faced with challenge, can we channel our limited energy to regenerating and growing? When cut through to the core, can we recognize our own vast potential and reach toward new possibility?

The lessons from the earthworm stay with me; how we, too, only come to know love through the pain of loss. Sometimes this impulse toward regenerative love naturally arises, expanding easily from within. And during times of suffering, we may find it quite unexpectedly, buried deep in the earthy loam of our experience, hidden below the surface. Psychotherapist and meditation teacher Tara Brach has said, “The alchemy of compassion is to let ourselves be touched by suffering, including our own.” Meeting suffering with kindness fertilizes the soil that sustains love. This vulnerability invites us to push up our sleeves and really get our hands dirty, meeting this raw material of life. Now that’s love.