I learnt this as a child in church. Back then it felt like a sweet song about kindness. Now? It feels like an anthem for free love, chosen family, and every unruly, generous connection that doesn’t fit in a nuclear-shaped box!

Love is something if you give it away,
Give it away, give it away.
Love is something if you give it away,
You end up having more.

It's just like a magic penny,
Hold it tight and you won't have any.
Lend it, spend it, and you'll have so many
They'll roll all over the floor.

For love is something if you give it away,
Give it away, give it away.
Love is something if you give it away,
You end up having more.

Money's dandy and we like to use it,1
But love is better if you don't refuse it.
It's a treasure and you'll never lose it
Unless you lock up your door.

For love is something if you give it away,
Give it away, give it away.
Love is something if you give it away,
You end up having more.

So let's go dancing till the break of day,
And if there's a piper, we can pay.
For love is something if you give it away,
You end up having more.

For love is something if you give it away,
Give it away, give it away.
Love is something if you give it away,
You end up having more.

Malvina Reynolds

I used to think this was just a sweet little song about kindness – one of those church tunes meant to teach children not to be selfish. But now I hear something much wilder in it. Something liberating. It’s not just about giving love. It’s about refusing to hoard it.

We’re taught that love should be scarce. That you can only give it to one person at a time, that there’s a hierarchy, a script, a proper container. Marriage. Family. Exclusivity. But love doesn’t work like that. It spills. It loops. It surprises you. The more you give, the more you find you have to give. And not just romantically – this is just as true of friendship, care, community, and self-love.

That lyric – “Hold it tight and you won’t have any” – rings truer now than ever. I’ve seen what happens when people try to own love, to lock it down. They get afraid. Controlling. Hurt. But if you treat love like a gift – not a trade or a prize or a contract – then something opens. You end up having more.

So maybe the magic penny isn’t just a cute metaphor. Maybe it’s a quiet revolution. A reminder that love, like joy, grows when it’s shared freely – not rationed, policed, or hoarded.

These days, I’m learning that love doesn’t have to mean ownership, obligation, or exclusivity. It can mean presence, permission, and care. Whether it’s romantic, platonic, or something in between, I want my love to be more like that penny – rolling, shared, unafraid.

If I end up with more love by giving it away… well, that sounds like magic worth believing in.