“We love the things we love for what they are.” ~ Robert Frost
A Libra longs for partnership, it is his heart’s forever-wish; but to love a Libra, you must love him completely.A Libra will need space; he’ll need freedom to be who he is
A Libra will need space; he’ll need the freedom to be who he is at any given moment. He wants to suffer, celebrate, hate and adore who he is. These things are always changing and often conflicting because he’s constantly discovering new pieces of who he is.
He’ll never tell you something critical straightaway. Instead, he’ll sit with it until the perfect words ring true in his heart and ever-so-carefully move into his mouth. Even then, he might write you a letter. Because the intensity of his feelings can make the speaking of words such a task.
He loves words. He loves the magic they hold, the way they can free his (and so few things can).
So to love a Libra, understand that the words always matter—they are the brush strokes of his heart. He won’t lie, he’s no good at it. He won’t brag, for he holds words in too high esteem. Your words must never be cheapened through unfulfilled promises or patronization. If your speech is unkind, he’ll remember, and the words will never hurt less.
He’s an artist, through and through. But a Libra, to survive in the world, must find his medium. The words, or paints, the delicate, mindful crease of a freshly-made bed—it’s all art to him. Beautiful pieces of anything. He needs objects and sounds and smells and textures to resonate with that place deep inside that says, “Yes. That’s it; now it is exactly right.” To love a Libra, you must know this.
He’ll need his art like you need your breath—without it, he will lose track of who he is.
You must watch the curve of his mouth; his lips will purse (ever-so-slightly), and when they do, you can rest assured that his mind wanders because his heart is not still. You’ll notice his eyes are far away; at that moment, you must let him go there—to the place where the words find their way to the air—but not for too long. He’s always in danger of escaping for too long.
He seeks stillness.
A Libra will love his body. He’ll hate his body too. But you must love it; you must always love it. You must look into his eyes and smile. Move his hair from his face so you can get a better look. You must touch the places that hardly get touched: his neck as he does the dishes, his collar bone as he types at his desk, his hip as you stand in line at the grocery store. You must weave the ordinary with the erotic. Slide your hands firmly over every inch of his skin as if it were the first time you’ve ever touched him. You must touch him. He’ll crave your embrace and wither without it.
He needs romance. And so many kisses.
He needs to be whisked away to see the world, and he needs a comfortable home to return to.
He’ll cry. A lot. He’ll cry, and you won’t know what’s wrong. He won’t tell you what’s wrong, not at first because he might not know. There will be times when he simply needs to feel sadness; he needs to feel the struggle of being alive, even when you both don’t understand.
Whatever it is, he feels it more.
The weight of his fears, his curiosities, everything: of being human, of responsibility, of hate and violence and injustice, of beauty and lightness and breath, all of it. It frighteners him, but amazes him too. So he’ll need time and space to explore, to dance and to fall apart, because there is nothing more lovely than a Libra experiencing the world. He sees magic where others do not. He needs to believe in magic. Ferociously.
And when he finally turns 30—when the leaves are changing, and he feels most himself—you’ll be mindful of his feelings; because, even if it isn’t a big deal, it is a big deal and the tears that stream for no particular reason come from a place of shame in his heart.
To love a Libra, you must celebrate; you must celebrate his, life, the amazing, the plain, everything and anything.
To love a Libra is to love the very essence of love, warts and all.
There’s a delicate balance—a perpetual tug-of-war—between feeling fierce and complete against feeling soft and frail. Always trying to reach that impossible balance, he never quite knows who he is.
To compensate for the not-knowing, he’ll please everyone around him. He’ll accommodate others and fix situations until you resent his for it; but, to love a Libra is to see that his self-sacrifice, no matter how destructive, is how he loves. His bleeding heart is how he finds his place in a world that can be unkind; it’s the way he can claim some shred of control—he believes that kindness is what matters most.
A Libra needs you to push him toward self-care. He’ll never choose his needs first, so you’ll have to teach him this craft. You’ll need to teach him that putting his needs before others are not the same as selfishness because he sees selfishness as ugly.
Ugliness scares him.
His heart will break often. His heart will feel lonely and sad about many things, but you must never be the one to break it completely.
To capture a Libra’s heart is to capture his heart forever. There are no partners more committed, more attentive than your Libra. You mustn’t ever take him for granted, though; for a Libra’s heart will grow uneasy when neglected, his heart will close, and you risk never finding your way in again.
His heart knows the secret to everything. Protect it.
Sometimes he’ll feel lost. He’ll need hot tea and blankets, black-and-white movies, and no conversation. Other times, he’ll need people. Parties and midnight walks and deep, frenzied conversation—he likes literature and science and philosophy best. He likes whiskey too. To love him, you’ll need to know that.
He’ll need constant reminders that he’s a lovely being, that he’s loved—better yet, adored. He needs mindful smothering; he needs adventure. A Libra wants autonomy, but can’t stand the thought of being left alone. You must learn to accept him, even as a contradiction.
He’ll require decisiveness, as he has none of his own. He’ll surprise you with spontaneity, and you’ll admire the commitment he shows to his heart’s content. But if he has time to think, any decision will be painful—be it where to eat, what to wear or who to love. This will frustrate you, but you must try to understand. For him, there is no such thing as an obvious choice.
Loving a Libra means loving love itself. He loves everything about love: the connection, the discovery, the heartache, the ecstasy, the very idea of love—it’s all the same. He yearns for the safety of partnership, but he thrives on the excitement of love’s uncertainty.
He wants passion.
He can see the good in almost any person, but in a lover, he requires intelligence and humor. There is nothing sexier than wit.
He hates discord because it makes him feel vulnerable, but to love him is not to worry too much because he believes in forgiveness and trust—enough to repair almost any injury done to him. When you fight with a Libra, he’ll be certain that every fight is the end of everything and this will destroy him a little; you must remind him that every argument is an opportunity for growth—it is the beginning of a new everything. Loving a Libra means knowing there are few things more important than make-up sex.
He loves falling in love, so to love a Libra you’ll have to fall in love time and time again. He’ll require perpetual evolution, and inspiration, and a little dose of sin.
To love a Libra, you’ll need to see a good intention that he always has in his heart; to ignore this well-meaning piece of him is to deny him a personal truth. He cannot survive without this particular truth. When he’s awful, or rude, or arguing because he’s right—and he’s usually right, because he’s a Libra and it’s in his nature to be fair and just and indisputably right—you must breathe. Then trust his tears and his words to be true.
He cares too deeply to ever inflict intentional harm.
But if you witness the flash of anger in his eyes, you must let him rage. For gentle, compassionate Libra will storm fiercely in the face of injustice. You must allow him the space to be a warrior when his heart tells him it is time to fight. You must stand beside him, admire his devotion and believe in the cause—see it for what it is, a manifestation of his heart’s deepest purpose.
Believe in him, and he’ll believe in you too.
He might be cast as an introvert. He might be tagged an extrovert by those who know him best. Neither matters, as long as he feels connected to what surrounds him.
When a Libra is happy, he can take over the world. He need only be equipped with the proper music, laughter and his smile.
The trick is in keeping him there; for at that moment is an ocean of contentment that only his huge heart can appreciate. If you can keep him at the moment, you can keep him forever. But the Libra mind will drift and worry. It will linger on the wrong that cut him too deeply. He will scrutinize over the words you used or the words that went unspoken. He’ll wonder about security and what each embrace or touch or quarrel will mean in the long-term; to love a Libra, you must gently guide him back to the now again and again and again.
Libra blossoms in the joyful now.
He believes in the goodness of people, in magic and (above all else) in happily ever after.
To love a Libra, you must believe in him for everything he is.
This was edited from an article on Elephant Journal: What it means to love a Libra