What is it like to be without certainty, to allow everything as it is? What is it like to be without personal designs, either for oneself or another? What is it like to leave another so totally free that you are free of them and they are free of you? That's what it's like to be wobbly.
To be wobbly is to be without the least bit of protection: It is to meet without place to retreat. This sounds frightening, but it is the opposite that is never quite secure.
Such a meeting is not a fright, but a joy. There is love, but no bargaining. There is honoring what is, but no compromise. There is respect for mystery, but no desire to control: There's blessedness, but no possessiveness. There's gratitude, but no hankering for more. There's contentment, but no complacency.
We have it backwards. We are waiting to love. We are waiting for conditions to be right. They will never be, because Love is something you are, not something you have. One who confuses what they have with what they are will never know the joy of being wobbly.