A few thoughts on love, life, and living
Sometimes I find myself alone in the near-dark of morning, and the thoughts that run through my head are special ones. They’re not the kind that find their way in during the hectic light and activity of the day. They seem reserved for a time exponentially more quiet and subdued.
These thoughts are about life, about experience, and about love.
I’ve been alive for almost 35 years now, and I have been fortunate enough to have learned about love during that time. But the way I learned about it was not always pleasant. I had to see many things disguised as love that were not. I had to feel things that I was told were love — but were not. I had to ache and yearn, and reject the very idea of love. I had to be on my own for a while after being a constant boyfriend since age 18. I had to be alone, and come to embrace that feeling.
We’re never alone, you know. That’s a mistake I think we all make from time to time. We’re never alone; we’re with ourselves. And there is a difference.
You have a relationship with yourself, whether you believe it or not. And if you can’t or won’t sit alone with yourself and be at peace — it can feel like there is no rest. That’s where love comes in.
Love is often pursued as a substitute for a relationship with oneself. It is pursued as a distraction, a diversion, and a saving grace. But that kind of love — like most diversions or distractions — never outlasts the thing being diverted or distracted from. Eventually, you have to be with yourself — and the din is either overwhelmingly loud, or the silence is enough to break you. And that’s okay, because it’s just the two of you; and no matter what, you can make it work…if you try.
These days, I understand that love is a positive feedback loop. It begins with me and myself, extends outward to another, and comes back to me richer and warmer — and begins all over again. I used to see love as something that never changes — something that is strong from the beginning and sustained through time. I now realize that love is the opposite. It’s something that begins small and fragile, and that grows with experience, cooperation, vulnerability, service, failure, breakdowns, trial and error, and reconciliation. Love without any of those things is merely a sapling — susceptible to any weak wind or rain that might wash over in a moment.
I look today at the woman I met almost 10 years ago, and the feeling is completely different. Back then, she was a mystery. The attraction was intrigue, curiosity, and suspense. It was intense, alluring, and motivating. But it is not what I feel today. What I feel today is so much deeper, richer, warmer, stronger, and sustaining. I look at her and see 10 years, 2 children, 2 houses, and numerous adventures — arguments, make-ups, and moments of intimate connection.
I could never — none of us could ever — feel that for a relative stranger. That is love; it isn’t something discovered fully mature and kept whole. It’s something carefully grown and cultivated — something nurtured and encouraged — something that began so rough and vulnerable, but made strong and flexible through the years.
Love is not about fanning flames — that’s a an amateur’s way of seeing it — because love is not fire. Love is a house — nay, a mansion — but it starts off as a few boards and nails. And it is only made into something more when you build it up enough to keep out the winds, rain, and cold, that it becomes a place to go for shelter — to stay warm, and to build a life.
Perhaps I am wrong, and perhaps the hot, hot fire still burns as brightly for someone, somewhere. But I was never one for fire anyway — I’ve found that there is a fine line between staying warm and being set ablaze. I’d rather build my mansion, one room at a time.