What does "It takes life to love Life" mean to you?

The line is from a poem called “Lucinda Matlock” in Edgar Lee Master’s Spoon River Anthology.

I am just wondering what others here think of the line.

I saw my therapist today, and I’m still digging up repressed sexuality. I have been wondering how much of Life I can love while I’m repressing even a smidgen of such an important instinct. I also attended a funeral today, so that may have something to do with my question.