I Love You

What does these words represent exactly?

A Letter on Collective Love

by,

Anosha Zereh

I find myself reflecting not on romance, nor on private affection, but on our collective effort toward Love…

My dear friends, my companions on this quiet and trembling earth,

There are seasons when the world feels fractured — loud with division, heavy with forgetting. And then there are moments, softer and more luminous, when something ancient within us stirs and remembers.

Today, I am writing to you from that place of remembering.

In the name of the Love that breathes us —

before our names, before our roles, before our separations.

I begin with what the great mystics have always known.

Ibn Arabi wrote:

“My heart has become capable of every form…

It is the pasture for gazelles and a monastery for monks…

I follow the religion of Love.”

And Rumi reminded us:

“Through Love, all that is bitter will be sweet.”

These were not metaphors.

They were recognitions.

Love is not sentiment.

It is structure.

It is not romance.

It is ontology.

We are not asked to create love.

We are asked to take responsibility for it.

As human beings — as vice regents of this living earth — we are entrusted with something immense: the guardianship of consciousness itself. The breath that moves through us is not private property. The awareness we carry is not accidental. We are participants in an unfolding.

And what unfolds through us must be tended.

Love — عشق — is innate. It is not learned from the world; it is remembered despite the world. It is the subtle intelligence that binds ecosystem to ecosystem, heart to heart, generation to generation. Without it, evolution collapses into mere survival. With it, evolution becomes awakening.

But awakening is not individual.

In The Conference of the Birds, the great Persian mystic Attar of Nishapur tells the story of the birds who set out in search of their king, the Simorgh. They cross valleys of fear, annihilation, bewilderment, and love. Many fall away. Many lose heart. In the end, only thirty birds arrive.

And there they discover:

the Simorgh was not separate from them.

Si morgh — thirty birds.

The king they sought was the collective reality of their own refined being.

This is our journey.

We are not separate seekers chasing an external truth. We are facets of one unfolding awareness, polishing one another through friction, responsibility, compassion, and courage. The Truth is not found in isolation; it is revealed in communion.

To take accountability for love means to understand this:

harm done to another fractures the whole.

indifference delays the flowering.

compassion accelerates evolution.

Love is not passive. It is participatory.

It asks us to stand where we are — in our families, our communities, our institutions — and embody coherence. Not perfection. Not superiority. Coherence.

And then there is the cry of Al-Hallaj — Mansur al-Hallaj — who declared:

“Ana al-Haqq.”

“I am the Truth.”

This was not ego.

It was dissolution.

When the illusion of separation falls, what remains speaks. And what remains is not personal identity — it is Reality recognizing itself.

This is our story. Each one of us.

We begin as seekers of love.

We mature into servants of love.

We dissolve into Love as Truth.

The vice regency we carry is not dominion.

It is stewardship of the sacred.

The earth does not need our superiority.

It needs our coherence.

The future does not need more noise.

It needs embodied remembrance.

On this Love Day, may we reflect not only on who we cherish,

but on how we embody Love in the world.

May we take responsibility for the Love that breathes us.

May we walk together as the thirty birds.

May we polish one another until only the Real remains.

This is our collective becoming.

This is our evolution.

With love,

Anosha Zereh