Thanks, Anita. I appreciate the way you noticed that shift.

Over time, the word love began to feel heavy for me. It carries so many expectations, hopes, and associations that we end up confining it with definitions… a subtle, unskillful tendency I feel, to own and shape it into our image. In that sense, love becomes limiting, a veil, as James notes.

Awareness, on the other hand, feels lighter. When I stay present with what arises and passes, compassion shows up naturally. And from that compassion emerges a kind of love that doesn’t need to be named… something quieter, less demanding, more like being present to life’s unfolding rhythm.

So I wouldn’t say I replaced love with awareness. It’s more that awareness revealed a love that doesn’t have to be spoken about, because it’s already there in the way we breathe and live.

Perhaps I can say it more simply: As words fade, awareness uncovers what was always present.. a compassion, and a love beyond naming.