Loving Everyone

Let’s talk about the L-word.

Love.

How do you feel when you use the L-word? Excited? Emotional? Afraid? Uncomfortable? Maybe all of the above. The question reminds me of those TV shows and movies where characters are either scolded for not saying “I love you” or sent into a spiral because they said it too soon. Love is loaded. It’s powerful, and let’s face it, it’s often pressured.

But what if we took the pressure off? What if we chose to love everyone? How uncomfortable does that idea make you?

When I tell people I believe we can love everyone, the reactions are usually some combination of laughter, eye rolls, and disbelief. “Come on, Shaunie,” they say. “That’s not realistic.” But I see it differently.

First, it starts with how you define love, right? For me, love is respect, kindness, and goodwill—an acknowledgment of our shared humanity. It’s about being curious about other humans, seeing their stories, and recognizing their worth. Love, in this sense, doesn’t ask for anything in return. It doesn’t depend on whether someone “deserves” it.

This belief feels fundamental to being human. Beneath our differences—political, cultural, personal—we’re all made of the same stuff. We all have joys, struggles, dreams, and fears. Those fears. I would say they are the greatest impediment to loving. Fears like getting hurt, being taken advantage of, judged. I get it. Scary. And yet, letting all that go for love has lots of reward.

I get it: the idea of loving everyone sounds unrealistic, even goofy. Maybe that’s because we’ve been taught to view love as scarce, conditional, or special. Or for men, we often equate love with sex or duty. What if love wasn’t  based on merit, marriage or blood, but something you simply are? What if it was more about your own way of being in the world than about anyone else’s behavior?

You might be asking yourself, so, what is the difference between say loving family and strangers? Well, love is love. But, then, we have decide what kind of relationship we want to have with someone. How intense or intimate will that relationship be. The relationship with a husband, mother or daughter is each different from that of a friend or coworker. Is it possible we might find ourselves confusing attachment or obligation with love?

This is something I think about and try to practice daily. Meditation is my anchor. I start with myself, sitting in stillness, reconnecting to the intention of living with love, respect, and goodwill. It doesn’t mean I don’t get irritated, impatient, or do shit that annoys others —believe me, I do—but meditation helps me return to love again and again.

When I’m not meditating, I engage with other humans in simple, intentional ways. For example, when I’m out walking, I make a point to greet people I pass with a sincere “hello” or “good morning,” infused with curiosity. It’s a small gesture, but it adds up, building a kind of loving “muscle memory.” On a larger scale, my six years with MenLiving have given me the chance to meet hundreds of men, each encounter an opportunity to practice love.

So, yeah, maybe this all sounds idealistic. But isn’t it worth trying? What’s the alternative—more division, more walls, more “us versus them”? I’ll take love over that any day.