Friday, April 16, 2004
Love, Actually
Reading another writer responding to my suggestion that he define love, I typically, in my usual disagreeable fashion, feel compelled to disagree. So, Quest : forgive me for recycling your thoughts :
I told you not to define love. But the main reason i told you not to define it, is not so much that it's such a subjective topic, but that it's impossible to capture emotions onto words. If you do.. you'll always be truncating something intangible just to satisfy a human need to define things with these mere letters. Just like we often try to define almost everything else, even people.
Two thousand years of men trying to capture the essence of love in prose and poetry. A billion-million different love-letters explaining the how, and the why. The age-old stumper that Women pose us : Why do you love me?
And we're about to turn tail and run because mere words are not enough? It is entirely possible to capture your emotions, in words. Seize the pictures in your mind. Taste them. Feel them. And then let your heart do the writing. Don't translate them into words - just tell us the pictures. If you lack the words to describe your images, find new words. Or make new words up.
Words describe the intangible. Words reside in the same realm - we cannot touch words with our hands. We feel them. We hear them. We live them.
No. I maintain that it would be pointless for me to attempt to define love for everyone, because love is different for all of us.
Comment. How many of you find that it's easier to fall in love now? Is it because it's really easier to do so, or because you are simply trying harder, or looking harder? Because of the way our lifestyle has changed? Because we are more willing to try harder now that we don't believe in fairy tales? Because we are desperately seeking someone who can really understand us? Are we looking to capture a lost feeling from the past? Is this why we turn to the pen/keyboard? Because we so desparately want to connect to someone?
Not everyone is built like you are. Some of us find it harder to fall in love, the further along we go.
Some of us have never fallen in love.
Personally. Love is just a cacophony of other emotions that makes us feel that special way for someone. It can't be explained, but can be substantiated. Those who have suffered broken hearts before should know what I mean.
It's that euphoric high you get when you see or hear someone. It's that connection. That look in her eyes that says she understands you. It's that feeling of being wanted. It's that feeling when you hold her in your arms. It's that smile that she gives you when she wakes up next to you in the morning.
love is.. love.
Well spoken. That is Your Love.
Not all of us feel the same things you have done. Or hunger for the same highs.
Love - what is?
For all of us - it is far easier to state what love is not.
Love is not : Anger. Frustration. Jealousy. Selfish ambition. Screwing over someone for your own benefit. Hurt. Apathy.
And so on.
This, I maintain, is the only common ground you can, and will find between individuals.
As you have explained your concept of love, allow me to expound on mine.
*****
Personally
(Pause)
(Grunt. Creak)
Sorry. Hinges to Soul are rather rusty. Not used to exposing it to the world like this. I, Exhibitionist.
Pieces of the Puzzle
A. Recognition - Early warning systems.
It starts with recognition. Perhaps a shock, of ~.
Recognition - of what exactly? - is difficult to explain. For me, it has something to do with eyes. Something to do with deja-vu. Perhaps its the way my brain's wired. Falling in love requires a partial epileptic seizure. (Fortunate. A generalised tonic clonic attack heralding the onset of impending true love might prove embarrassing.)
A younger self would have used the term "love at first sight".
This older, more cynical self now wonders if this truly exists. Perhaps there is a shock of immediate (or near immediate) attraction...
1.
As he concentrated on staring vacantly out the car window and mutually (and embarrassedly) avoiding the gaze of the stranger by his side, he heard his mother ask her : So what do you do in school?
He blurts out "air rifle and track and field" before closing his mouth with a snap. Now why on earth did I say that?
Then he realises : two voices in unison had spoken.
He senses, rather than sees out of the corner of his eye, her surprised gaze upon his face.
Some time later that evening, as the adults socialise (as adults do) he finds himself in private company with her. They speak a little, and laugh a little in surprise. They don't know each other. But they do.
2.
His eyes met hers immediately. She was tall, for a girl. And tanned. And had relatively broad shoulders. He didn't really notice her hair, or her face.
Those eyes - they sparkled. They teased, they laughed. They spoke to him, silently. And it felt like he understood; it felt like he knew her already. It felt like he was drowning.
Love = initial... something... ? Instant, or near-instant recognition?
Hardly. In the first anecdote, the protagonist never saw the girl again in his life. The story ends there. To call it love would make a mockery of everything else experienced in this lifetime. Recognition in isolation is insubstantial. A fleeting regret.
Recognition is the first piece of my puzzle. Where everything starts. Or perhaps even before. "That connection, that look in her eyes" - a piece of the whole.
Without recognition, love cannot begin. Not the love that I live for.
"In the minicab, on the way home, Alice falls asleep immediately. I long to pass out as well, but common decency and level headedness stops me. Minicabs can be dangerous places. Looking at her asleep, and vulnerable, I realise that she is special. A unique blend. A vulnerable tough cookie. In short, an extremely human, human being. Her bloke is a lucky guy indeed. "
No envy. No desire. No initial recognition - no point. No start, no end. Or rather, Bad end. heh.
Recognition - Rare.
It's a kind of magic.
B. Perpetuation - Runup to Realisation
Getting to know somebody. Discovering who lies behind the mask. Or, if indeed there is a mask in the first place. Asking, and answering questions. Exploring uncharted waters - and finding common ground. Challenging that "initial recognition" - that initial familiarity - and discovering that it is far more than an artifact, a random error. More than a lie, or a half-truth.
Mmm. Statistically speaking, becoming increasingly unable to disprove the null-hypothesis. And in so doing, Realising.
You know when you know.
And if it all sounds terribly cold and clinical above... it isn't, if you think the way I do. If she does. It involves humour. And laughter. And it feels... comfortable. If she doesn't, it becomes a chore. A good reason not to carry on.
Perpetuation : Very rare. (? medium rare? heh)
Significant.
C. Loss - the final front... fanta... err facet.
In the conventional sense to most people, loss is parting. And regret -- trite, and insufficient to myself. I do (though rarely) feel regret at parting from mere friends. I will not pretend that love for a close friend - even female - is akin to love for a Significant other. See Ladder Theory - the female ladder.
pause. Um. Yes, I am straight I swear.
Loss - personal loss. Perhaps not a tangible loss, but a preparation for loss - the readiness to put someone else's happiness ahead of your own.
To hurt, to make someone else happy.
To be ready. To love someone more than yourself.
And if she needs, or wants it, to let her go at the expense to the foundations to your self, your beliefs. Your dreams, your happiness.
Selfish desires have no role in Loss.
Yet mingled with Loss, an equal serving of Trust. Trust that she will never call upon you to compromise yourself. To never take advantage of your vulnerability.
And perhaps even to honour you with that same trust, and vulnerability in turn.
A mutual gift, bestowed but not demanded.
Beating the cynical veteran of life within down into silence.
Peace.
Enough to give a life for.
Enough to give a lifetime to.
Enough to spend a lifetime, getting to know someone else. The ultimate sacrifice - time. But no sacrifice at all.
Loss - and Trust : vanishingly rare.
To die for. Significant beyond measure.
Worse still, no single facet is love, to me. Like the wholistic human being - the sum of the parts is greater than the whole.
Love is. Everything. The pieces of the puzzle have to fit. And turn into something more. Something alive. Something... significant.
Love actually, is all around us.
I beg to differ.
Not for me.
Reading another writer responding to my suggestion that he define love, I typically, in my usual disagreeable fashion, feel compelled to disagree. So, Quest : forgive me for recycling your thoughts :
I told you not to define love. But the main reason i told you not to define it, is not so much that it's such a subjective topic, but that it's impossible to capture emotions onto words. If you do.. you'll always be truncating something intangible just to satisfy a human need to define things with these mere letters. Just like we often try to define almost everything else, even people.
Two thousand years of men trying to capture the essence of love in prose and poetry. A billion-million different love-letters explaining the how, and the why. The age-old stumper that Women pose us : Why do you love me?
And we're about to turn tail and run because mere words are not enough? It is entirely possible to capture your emotions, in words. Seize the pictures in your mind. Taste them. Feel them. And then let your heart do the writing. Don't translate them into words - just tell us the pictures. If you lack the words to describe your images, find new words. Or make new words up.
Words describe the intangible. Words reside in the same realm - we cannot touch words with our hands. We feel them. We hear them. We live them.
No. I maintain that it would be pointless for me to attempt to define love for everyone, because love is different for all of us.
Comment. How many of you find that it's easier to fall in love now? Is it because it's really easier to do so, or because you are simply trying harder, or looking harder? Because of the way our lifestyle has changed? Because we are more willing to try harder now that we don't believe in fairy tales? Because we are desperately seeking someone who can really understand us? Are we looking to capture a lost feeling from the past? Is this why we turn to the pen/keyboard? Because we so desparately want to connect to someone?
Not everyone is built like you are. Some of us find it harder to fall in love, the further along we go.
Some of us have never fallen in love.
Personally. Love is just a cacophony of other emotions that makes us feel that special way for someone. It can't be explained, but can be substantiated. Those who have suffered broken hearts before should know what I mean.
It's that euphoric high you get when you see or hear someone. It's that connection. That look in her eyes that says she understands you. It's that feeling of being wanted. It's that feeling when you hold her in your arms. It's that smile that she gives you when she wakes up next to you in the morning.
love is.. love.
Well spoken. That is Your Love.
Not all of us feel the same things you have done. Or hunger for the same highs.
Love - what is?
For all of us - it is far easier to state what love is not.
Love is not : Anger. Frustration. Jealousy. Selfish ambition. Screwing over someone for your own benefit. Hurt. Apathy.
And so on.
This, I maintain, is the only common ground you can, and will find between individuals.
As you have explained your concept of love, allow me to expound on mine.
*****
Personally
(Pause)
(Grunt. Creak)
Sorry. Hinges to Soul are rather rusty. Not used to exposing it to the world like this. I, Exhibitionist.
Pieces of the Puzzle
A. Recognition - Early warning systems.
It starts with recognition. Perhaps a shock, of ~.
Recognition - of what exactly? - is difficult to explain. For me, it has something to do with eyes. Something to do with deja-vu. Perhaps its the way my brain's wired. Falling in love requires a partial epileptic seizure. (Fortunate. A generalised tonic clonic attack heralding the onset of impending true love might prove embarrassing.)
A younger self would have used the term "love at first sight".
This older, more cynical self now wonders if this truly exists. Perhaps there is a shock of immediate (or near immediate) attraction...
1.
As he concentrated on staring vacantly out the car window and mutually (and embarrassedly) avoiding the gaze of the stranger by his side, he heard his mother ask her : So what do you do in school?
He blurts out "air rifle and track and field" before closing his mouth with a snap. Now why on earth did I say that?
Then he realises : two voices in unison had spoken.
He senses, rather than sees out of the corner of his eye, her surprised gaze upon his face.
Some time later that evening, as the adults socialise (as adults do) he finds himself in private company with her. They speak a little, and laugh a little in surprise. They don't know each other. But they do.
2.
His eyes met hers immediately. She was tall, for a girl. And tanned. And had relatively broad shoulders. He didn't really notice her hair, or her face.
Those eyes - they sparkled. They teased, they laughed. They spoke to him, silently. And it felt like he understood; it felt like he knew her already. It felt like he was drowning.
Love = initial... something... ? Instant, or near-instant recognition?
Hardly. In the first anecdote, the protagonist never saw the girl again in his life. The story ends there. To call it love would make a mockery of everything else experienced in this lifetime. Recognition in isolation is insubstantial. A fleeting regret.
Recognition is the first piece of my puzzle. Where everything starts. Or perhaps even before. "That connection, that look in her eyes" - a piece of the whole.
Without recognition, love cannot begin. Not the love that I live for.
"In the minicab, on the way home, Alice falls asleep immediately. I long to pass out as well, but common decency and level headedness stops me. Minicabs can be dangerous places. Looking at her asleep, and vulnerable, I realise that she is special. A unique blend. A vulnerable tough cookie. In short, an extremely human, human being. Her bloke is a lucky guy indeed. "
No envy. No desire. No initial recognition - no point. No start, no end. Or rather, Bad end. heh.
Recognition - Rare.
It's a kind of magic.
B. Perpetuation - Runup to Realisation
Getting to know somebody. Discovering who lies behind the mask. Or, if indeed there is a mask in the first place. Asking, and answering questions. Exploring uncharted waters - and finding common ground. Challenging that "initial recognition" - that initial familiarity - and discovering that it is far more than an artifact, a random error. More than a lie, or a half-truth.
Mmm. Statistically speaking, becoming increasingly unable to disprove the null-hypothesis. And in so doing, Realising.
You know when you know.
And if it all sounds terribly cold and clinical above... it isn't, if you think the way I do. If she does. It involves humour. And laughter. And it feels... comfortable. If she doesn't, it becomes a chore. A good reason not to carry on.
Perpetuation : Very rare. (? medium rare? heh)
Significant.
C. Loss - the final front... fanta... err facet.
In the conventional sense to most people, loss is parting. And regret -- trite, and insufficient to myself. I do (though rarely) feel regret at parting from mere friends. I will not pretend that love for a close friend - even female - is akin to love for a Significant other. See Ladder Theory - the female ladder.
pause. Um. Yes, I am straight I swear.
Loss - personal loss. Perhaps not a tangible loss, but a preparation for loss - the readiness to put someone else's happiness ahead of your own.
To hurt, to make someone else happy.
To be ready. To love someone more than yourself.
And if she needs, or wants it, to let her go at the expense to the foundations to your self, your beliefs. Your dreams, your happiness.
Selfish desires have no role in Loss.
Yet mingled with Loss, an equal serving of Trust. Trust that she will never call upon you to compromise yourself. To never take advantage of your vulnerability.
And perhaps even to honour you with that same trust, and vulnerability in turn.
A mutual gift, bestowed but not demanded.
Beating the cynical veteran of life within down into silence.
Peace.
Enough to give a life for.
Enough to give a lifetime to.
Enough to spend a lifetime, getting to know someone else. The ultimate sacrifice - time. But no sacrifice at all.
Loss - and Trust : vanishingly rare.
To die for. Significant beyond measure.
Worse still, no single facet is love, to me. Like the wholistic human being - the sum of the parts is greater than the whole.
Love is. Everything. The pieces of the puzzle have to fit. And turn into something more. Something alive. Something... significant.
Love actually, is all around us.
I beg to differ.
Not for me.
