“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” Rumi
I chose this topic not because I am an expert, but because I wanted to explore how I have nourished love and understanding—and how I can continue to deepen that in my practice. Love and understanding are not simply things we are born with. They are cultivated. They grow out of how we use our minds and how we practice. We can train our minds to love through understanding ourselves and others—or we can allow our stories and habit energies to create separation, leaving us feeling alone and defensive.
As infants, we likely fell in love with whoever cared for us. That love arose from our need to be nurtured and protected. But over time, that same impulse can evolve into something else—a “near enemy” of love: clinging. When we cling, we are not standing on our own two feet offering love. We are holding on, needing something in return. And often, the person we cling to does not experience that as love.
Because our culture revolves around wanting and acquiring, we often confuse love with possession. But that is not love. Love is the willingness to give. And if you are like me, giving love may feel much easier than receiving it. To be truly whole, we need to learn both—to offer love and to let it in.
The Difficulty of Receiving Love
Many of us struggle to receive love and kindness. True love does not come from clinging. It arises from within. To love deeply, we must feel a sense of wholeness in ourselves—not look to others to complete us. Sometimes what we think is love is actually attachment.
“Attachment masquerades as love. It looks and smells like love, but it’s a cheap imitation… Love is selfless; attachment is self-centered. Love is freeing; attachment is possessive.” Frank Ostaseski
People-pleasers—like me—often confuse attachment with love. You may have learned early on that being helpful, accommodating, or “good” was how you earned love. Over time, this becomes an internal script: I must earn love. I must be who others want me to be.
So, we give and give. We fix what isn’t ours to fix. We say yes when we mean no. We become who we think others want us to be. And it is exhausting.
At the same time, when love or kindness is offered freely, we don’t quite know what to do with it. It feels unfamiliar. Maybe even undeserved. So, we deflect it:
“No thanks, I’ve got it.”
“It was nothing.”
We stiffen when hugged. Each of these moments becomes another brick in the wall we build to protect ourselves from vulnerability.
Dismantling the Wall with Kindness
I built a very strong wall in my own life. And what I discovered is that the way to begin dismantling that wall is by developing kindness—both giving and receiving.
Kindness is a skill. It is something we can practice and strengthen. It begins with how we pay attention. Kindness practice—often through loving-kindness or metta meditation—helps us cultivate feelings of care and warmth toward ourselves and others. We do this by intentionally sending goodwill, silently repeating phrases of kindness.
This practice develops what we might call loving acceptance. It acts almost like self-therapy—gently releasing the mind from pain, confusion, and old patterns. Over time, it softens us. It reshapes habitual ways of thinking.
But only if we practice.
At first, we may not feel loving. That’s okay. If we stay with the intention—repeating the phrases, showing up again and again—the heart begins to respond.
We begin to soften.
We begin to feel.
When the Heart Softens
And when the heart softens, something important happens. It doesn’t just open to joy—it also opens to pain. Kindness practice can bring buried emotions to the surface: grief, fear, anger, loneliness. This can feel uncomfortable. But it is also healing.
Because as we learn to meet these emotions with kindness, we begin to realize something: We don’t need the wall anymore. The kinder we are to ourselves, the more inner resources we have to be with whatever arises.
Modern neuroscience even supports this. Through neuroplasticity, we know that the brain is shaped by where we place our attention. As we repeatedly return to kindness, we begin to rewire our minds. But for people-pleasers, this can feel especially challenging. Letting go of the mask means risking being seen. It means trusting that we are worthy of love—not because of what we do, but because of who we are. And that can feel very vulnerable.
Love Requires Understanding
True love includes accepting ourselves and others as we are—right now.
Not as we wish things were.
Not as they used to be.
Love grows on the ground of understanding. Mindfulness helps us slow down enough to see clearly:
What brings happiness?
What causes suffering?
And when we begin to understand suffering—our own and others’—love naturally follows.
A Personal Reflection: Learning to Love Through Understanding
I learned this most deeply through my relationship with my mother during her journey with dementia. I loved my mother. That was never in question.
But I didn’t understand her. I was clinging to who she used to be. My mind became tight and resistant. I felt sadness, frustration, even anger. I wanted things to be different. I wanted her back as she had always been.
And loving-kindness practice directed only toward her wasn’t enough to shift that. What changed everything was beginning to practice kindness toward myself. As I developed self-compassion, something softened. I began to let go of trying to control what I could not control. I began to accept what was happening—even when it was painful.
Accepting when she believed she was away at college.
Accepting when she felt abandoned.
Accepting when I didn’t know what to say.
This wasn’t easy. But it opened a doorway. Because from that place, I could finally listen.
Listening as an Act of Love
My mother didn’t need to be corrected. She didn’t need to be brought back to reality. She needed to be met in her reality.
She needed to be seen and heard.
She needed comfort when she was afraid.
Reassurance when she was sad.
Presence more than conversation.
As her condition progressed, words mattered less. What mattered was sitting with her. Holding her hand. Offering gentle touch.
This taught me something I will never forget: When we love someone, we cannot impose what we think they need. Love is an art. It requires us to understand the other person—not project our own expectations onto them.
The Practice of True Love
True love means accepting someone as they are in this moment. We are all changing, all the time. If we hold onto an image of who someone used to be, we are not loving them as they are now.
And love is not selective. If we only love the easy parts, the pleasant qualities, that is not full love.
True love includes patience. Understanding. Acceptance. This kind of love creates safety. It allows others—and ourselves—to be fully human.
Closing Summary
Letting in love and kindness is not a one-time realization. It is an ongoing practice.
Again and again, we are invited to notice:
Where am I holding back?
Where am I protecting myself?
Where am I not allowing love to flow—either outward or inward?
And gently, we begin to soften. We practice offering kindness to ourselves—not because we’ve earned it, but because we need it. We begin to dismantle the walls we have built—brick by brick.
We learn to receive kindness without deflecting it. To accept love without questioning our worthiness. To meet others where they are, not where we wish they would be.
And over time, something shifts. Love becomes less about striving and more about allowing. Less about needing and more about giving. Less about fear and more about presence.
We begin to experience what Rumi was pointing to: That love is already here. Our task is simply to remove the barriers. And when we do, even a little… Love and kindness begin to flow—naturally, freely, and without effort.