We've got this gift of love, but love is like a precious plant.

"We've got this gift of love, but love is like a precious plant. You can't just accept it and leave it in the cupboard or just think it's going to get on by itself. You've got to keep watering it. You've got to really look after it and nurture it." Thus spoke John Lennon, the poet of peace and the dreamer of unity, whose words, though born in the modern age, carry the timeless weight of ancient truth. In this reflection, Lennon likens love to a living thing, fragile yet strong, precious yet perishable. He reminds us that love, though divine in origin, demands human care—that it is not a treasure to be stored away, but a seed to be tended every day by patience, effort, and attention.

The origin of this wisdom comes from Lennon’s own life, marked by both triumph and turbulence. He had known the heights of adoration and the depths of loneliness; he had seen how fame and distraction could wither the simplest joys of the heart. Having loved and lost, and having rebuilt love again with Yoko Ono, he understood that love is not sustained by words or ideals alone. It must be cultivated—like a plant that needs light, water, and warmth. In these words, Lennon is not speaking as the rock icon, but as the humble gardener of the soul, tending to something greater than himself: the mysterious, fragile, and redemptive force of love.

When he calls love a gift, he acknowledges its sacredness—it is not something we earn or manufacture, but something given. Yet every gift, no matter how divine, can be lost if neglected. Love is not a monument, fixed and eternal; it is a living energy, sustained through care. The ancient sages taught the same truth: that what we do not feed, we starve; what we do not tend, we lose. Love thrives only in the hearts that work for it. It asks for time, for presence, for forgiveness, for renewal. Without these, even the strongest bond can wither into emptiness.

"You can't just accept it and leave it in the cupboard," Lennon warns. How many souls, having found love, grow careless and assume it will endure by its own power? They forget that affection fades without kindness, that trust dies without honesty, that closeness disappears without attention. Love, like a plant, may begin in beauty, but without nurture it dries into dust. The cupboard is the place of forgetfulness—the heart closed off by pride, distraction, or routine. When love is left there, untouched, it becomes a memory rather than a living force. Lennon urges us to keep it in the sunlight—to tend it daily, to speak it, to show it, to act upon it.

Consider the enduring story of Nelson and Winnie Mandela. Their love, tested by separation and struggle, began as a radiant bond of shared purpose. But years of imprisonment, distance, and the unrelenting demands of life eroded what time could not preserve. Their story is not one of failure, but of lesson: even love as noble as theirs must be watered to survive the droughts of circumstance. Without the continual acts of connection, even the strongest roots can weaken. Lennon’s metaphor reminds us that no love, however great, is self-sustaining. It must be renewed by devotion, understanding, and daily tenderness.

And yet, the beauty of his vision lies in hope. For if love can fade, it can also blossom again. A plant that wilts in neglect may live if it is watered with care; a love that feels lost may revive when nourished with honesty and effort. The act of nurturing love—through forgiveness, listening, and gratitude—is itself an act of healing. To water love is to humble oneself, to place another’s well-being beside one’s own. In this, we learn that love’s growth is not only for the beloved, but also for the lover. The gardener’s hands are blessed by the very act of tending.

So, my listener, take this teaching into your heart: love is both a gift and a responsibility. Do not take it for granted; do not hide it away. Speak it often. Show it in your deeds. Feed it with kindness, guard it with patience, and prune it with truth. When anger or indifference threaten it, return to the soil—remember why it was planted, and begin again. For love that is nurtured becomes not only enduring, but transforming; it turns the ordinary into the sacred, the fleeting into the eternal.

In the end, John Lennon’s words are both tender and commanding: love is life, and life requires care. The one who waters love daily will never thirst for meaning. The one who tends it faithfully will harvest joy that no storm can destroy. So let your love be a living garden—rooted in grace, growing toward light, sustained by your hands, and ever renewed by your heart.