Be Intoxicated Always in Her Love

Proverbs 5 holds a cool verse that I rolled over today: be intoxicated always in her love. I immediately think how great that would be as a song verse or chorus...and then pops into my head--"your love your love your love is my drug." Nice. I know. But there is something very cool to me visually about that verse. To me I do not jump into how to get sloppy drunk and compare that to being consumed by a girl. (In my case my wondeful wife.) There isn't anything about puking into a toilette that has been missed more so than hit, if you catch my drift, that can be put into comparison to my beautiful wife. I also don't think that being stoned out of my mind (I really don't even know that feeling, but I watch movies so...) to the point of forgetting my existence in a real world rather than one filled with colorful catepillars smoking purple haze out of the business end of a volkswagon that is giggling from the tickle fight with a bouncy ball can compare to my amazing wife.

It is fall and to me being intoxicated with her love is like stepping outside in the cool October air, breating in a fresh breath of pure air, letting the joy of that fill my lungs, and just getting lost in the breeze wrapping around me like a hug from God. Now, that is something I can be intoxicated by. There is a much better analogy of being intoxicated by the presence of God's creation: being lost in it: that applies to how I feel with my wife than there is in a disgusting binge on Old Pete's Moonshine.

Think about this: each one of you have a certain smell that can put you into a trance. For some of you its the smell of snow falling on a dirty mountain pathway, with cedar providing a dash of flavor. For some its the smell of sand, sea, and processed coconut oil scent from tanning oil. (In your mind you are right back there on the beach.) For some (and for some strange reason) it is the dusty smell of antique mahogony and dilapidated books. For some its the spring rain stopping with a foggy mist evaporating from the over heated earth. For some its the flavor of Pikes Place percolating and a worn out couch. You see, I could go on forever, and you would be lost in each moment that stikes your fancy. Each one of us have a moment that we can always go back to just from the tiniest of triggers--even just words can take us to a special place. You could see and smell the very things I was describing. So I end with this: be intoxicated by the wife of your youth--let her frangrance always be the thing you crave the most. Or as Ke$ha would say: let her love be your drug.