Am I ready for the love I say I want?

It is one of the braver questions on this tray, because it turns the floodlight around. Most love questions point outward — where is it, when is it, why isn't it here. This one asks about the state of the room you would be inviting someone into. Not the apartment; the life. The calendar, the habits, the half-finished arguments with yourself that a real partner would eventually walk in on.

Wanting love and making room for love are different skills, and plenty of warm, generous people have the first without the second. Readiness tends to look unglamorous: it is the openness of your evenings, the honesty of your answer when someone asks how you are, your willingness to be interrupted. Sometimes what we call longing is closer to appetite for the feeling of being chosen, which is real and human — and slightly different from the daily practice of choosing somebody back.

There is no pass or fail here. The stone you pull will not certify you ready or unready; it tends to show you the way you currently hold the door. Hold the question as plainly as you can, and when your hands feel quiet, open the tray.