Turning Towards Love

Real love is built quietly.

Not in grand gestures, but in the smallest, most ordinary moments, the ones that can so easily go unnoticed.

Every relationship has these micro-moments of choice.

Tiny openings between two people.

Moments where one heart reaches, even slightly, with a sigh, a glance, a story, a question, a hand reaching..

And in that moment, the other person has a choice:

to turn toward, or to turn away.

These moments might not look like much, but they are everything.

They are the foundation marbles of trust.

Each time we turn toward, it’s like placing a small marble in the jar.

A symbol of “I see you. You matter. I’m here.”

And over time, that jar fills.

It becomes the jar of our emotional safety, the felt sense that when I reach for you, I won’t fall into nothingness.

But when those moments are missed, when the emotion or vulnerability is dismissed, or not recognised, or we choose something else.

The nervous system registers distance.

It whispers, “It’s not safe here,” and we begin to protect.

We pull back.

We stop reaching.

We start managing connection instead of living in it.

And slowly, sadly, the jar begins to empty.

No one means for this to happen.

Often, it’s not out of neglect but overwhelm.

The day was long, the body tired, the mind elsewhere.

Our intimacy is not built on intention alone, it’s built on attention.

It’s built on the small choices to lean in, even when we’re unsure how.

When we reach for each other, when we stay open in the small storms, we build something sacred together.

A living memory of safety that makes repair possible when things do rupture, as they inevitably will.

Because love isn’t measured by perfection, but by our willingness to keep returning.

To keep showing up for one another.

So the work is simple, but not easy.

Notice the sliding doors moments.

The moment your partner sighs, looks away, goes quiet, softens, or tenses up.

The moment you can choose to step closer instead of retreat.

Over time, those choices are what create a love that lasts.

A love that doesn’t shatter at the first sign of distance, because it’s been quietly strengthened by thousands of small, everyday turns toward each other.

Love grows in the ordinary.

It’s built one marble, one moment, one choice at a time.

Thank you to Brene Brown for the marble jar metaphor, and great podcast with Dairy of a CEO yesterday.

With love,

Narla