Love can be anything you let it be. Of that I feel certain. For me, my love for my sensei has grown into a profound respect and admiration for aikido. It has inspired me to train even more devotedly. It has compounded, rather, an already keen appreciation for the art; I could never leave this dojo, permanently, or my training companions. Were I to do so due to something such as love unreciprocated, or a love failed, that would be truly in poor form, selfish, egotistical, even, these all of which, as we all do know, have no place in the heart of an aikidoka. To run away from that pain would mean a great sacrifice to training. We are our own enemies; the discord in our minds our only opponent. And I walk through the door to the dojo, and step onto the mat, and my love grows, and I'm joyously overwhelmed, and for even a few hours, a few days a week, I am more myself, more alive, than ever I was even moments before. And when this glorious man, for he is a man, first and foremost, comes in, and we bow, and he steps on the mat, I am more his student and a student of life than ever I could've been, otherwise. He has made me a better person, and I have let myself become better because of him. If that's not love, if that's not aikido, what is?