A Many Littered Word

Human beings have never, nor will we ever, desire an island. We are relational beings, fashioned and refined for late night phone calls and hand written notes. We live, die, wait, stay, and lie awake for each other. We are made for love. However, we are also creatures of immense folly. This thing that we crave, that is in fact our only purpose; has become a form of gluttony. Rather than the driving force, love becomes a selfish sensation.

Traditionally, love has been defined as strong feelings of affection for another out of kinship or other personal ties; including sexual attraction. However, authentic love is infinitely more. It is not only felt, but seen, heard, and proven. Love is a verb. The unfortunate result that comes from taking this concept literally however, is lust. What is initially perceived as virtuous can all too easily become consumed by the carnal.

Lust, although it can be seen as a by-product of love, is the exact opposite of love. Lust is primarily concerned with three things; the physical, the self, and the present. These priorities are not at all associated with authentic love. The line between the two becomes blurred because the physicality and momentary connection often mimic love. There are compliments, gifts, the occasional exchanging of dreams and aspirations; but unlike real love these only serve as a means to an end. Once the bed sheets have been tangled and the sun is up, it is all over. The emotions following the event are agonizing, usually one-sided, and not at all what is expected of the definition of love.

Authentic love involves the physical but is not limited to the physical. Authentic love is making breakfast in the morning, pointing out interesting newspaper articles to each other, and will even go so far as making the bed. Authentic love would rather be wrapped in a blanket than staring at lingerie. Authentic love thinks about family portraits and housing developments. Authentic love postpones hockey for chick flicks. It goes from a touch, to a note on the fridge, to a shared answering machine, to the very heart of life.

Romantic love is not the only place where the heart is found. Authentic love also exists in holding a door open, giving that woman at Wal-Mart with five children a straight line to the cashier, or simply smiling at that man waiting for the bus. These acts fall under the category of every day social interactions, but, as Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu states “Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love”.

Love is not a single moment, but a multitude of moments. It is not what we feel, but what we do. Instead of fantasizing about pleasure and passion, we should be holding a child’s hand, doing crosswords by the fireplace, and ultimately choosing the long forgotten path.

“I heard what you said. I’m not the silly romantic you think. I don’t want the heavens or the shooting stars. I don’t want gemstones or gold. I have those things already. I want…a steady hand. A kind soul. I want to fall asleep, and wake, knowing my heart is safe. I want to love, and be loved.” (Shana Abe)