No, not the love of a good book, the love of a good drink, the love of a pet, the love of a color or the love of fresh, clean sheets at night.
The love between, about, of and concerning another person. What do you feel? What do you see? What are the little cute things you notice about the other? How much do you feel you ‘see’ in them that others don’t?
Your responses in all situations?
A very brief example here from me. (I’m trying not to get real wordy here, not yet.)
I loved a girl tremendously. Even the shoes she left behind were like holy relics to me. Her home was, in my opinion, a special place because it was hers. I cherished even glasses she handled and could look fondly at crushed out cigarette butts she left behind. When she kissed or touched me, the sensations lingered long after I had dropped her off. A call for help from her, no matter how minor, could send me roaring along the roads to her house at any time of the day or night. Her smile, directed at me, filled me with a warm, fuzzy, magnificent glow that made everything just fine. I became aware of things I’d just noticed blandly before – like how bright the stars were at night and how friendly people actually were.
Hmmmmmm…
I did have a thing for a girl (never revealed and if I had, I’m sure I would have gotten the “just a friend” speech.)
Hanging around her was like being wrapped in a warm blanket right out of the dryer. I was just content, happy, and caught up in moments that I hoped would last forever. Everything she said was so fascinating. She could have talked about lint and I would have found it interesting.
Everything my BF does is magic. I love the way he looks when he sleeps, the things he says. I love how he rolls his eyes when he’s exasperated, I love his sarcastic humor.
I don’t feel complete when I am not with him, I just feel like I’m WAITING for something to happen. I have never met someone who puts up with everything I do, who loves everything I do, who tolerates the stupid things I do and say. I’m myself around him, and that’s enough for him.
The perfect, unarguable definition of love can be found in the Trinamic Trio glossary at http://www.tt3.org . Once we all realize this is what love is, we will all get on with things.
Love:…A term which has no meaning if defined.
-John Ralston Saul, The Doubter’s Companion
It’s sort of hopeless to try to define anything outside of some kind of scientific or legal symbol system, and those can only be defined because they’re abstractions. Real things like love are fuzzy and stymie definition. The best you can do is describe it. This may not be a bad thing.
Love is often thought of as a state of being, such that the being of another is essential, in all aspects to your own. It is often most completely misunderstood when it is examined, and in some ways it is best practiced by those without the sophistication inherent in definition of such things. The most grievous disservice done in the name of love is the proposal of tests whereby it can be proven.
To love is a verb. It is not a feeling, or an emotion, or a state of being. Mothers love their children, and that love is the action of providing life, and succor to them. How you feel is your pleasure at love, what you do is what love is. Infatuation is not love, for that is filled with the reflection of self. Desire is not love, for it is overwhelmed by the needs of self. Love is the doing of those things that benefit the one who is loved. Being loved is allowing the self to be set aside, and accepting that which another gives.
Where love is given, and accepted, and returned, it grows, and becomes stronger. Where it is hoarded, and held tightly, it withers, and dies. You cannot hold love, only give it. Demanding it will never bring it to you, and where it is not freely accepted, it can never dwell. No other force, except denial can overcome it.
Durnitall, Tris, I was going to add something, but I think you already said everything I was going to, and then some, in far fewer words than I would have managed. How do you do it?
Remember the joke about the two hunters who meet a bear in the woods? One guy quickly starts taking off his hiking boots and putting on a pair of running shoes. The other guy says, “What are you doing? You can’t run faster than that bear.” And the first guy says, “Forget the bear. I just have to outrun you.”
The people I love are the people I’d give my running shoes to.
While I realize that this is more infatuation than love, I can totally relate to this. I dated someone a year and a half ago that made me feel this way. I refused to empty the ashtray. Even when I did, I saved her butts for a week. How sick is that?
And my heart still pounds when I think of her, even though she stabbed me in the back and twisted the knife. Then again, maybe that’s just fear.
Love, according to one philosopher I happened to be listening to, one day, many, many moons ago, is a case of mental illness. Temporary insanity. A psychiatrist agreed. Studies have shown dramatic changes in some areas of the brain when a person is in love.
Anthropologists have decided that the insanity of love is actually designed to protect the young and make sure the species spreads itself.
Young love is possibly the most intense and romantic that anyone will ever experience.
People start wars over love.
The French sneer at everyone else but get all glassy eyed and agree on the subject of love.
Italians feel they are masters of love – which might account for their poor showing in WW2.
I don’t care what it is. I just like being in love.
