Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Cross Sections of Love

I could not think of any fitting word to describe what I have in mind, except for that mathematical term I have often encountered during my student days. Cross section. The meat of an object. Something you get to see when you cut across it. A realism beyond the static view of anything.

It may seem a little orchestrated, this little narrative of mine, knowing that the festivity they call Valentines Day is here. But I have been really wanting to discuss things about this irrational, hard-to-define, and unrelenting concept we call love. But after all, this concept is not tethered by any conventions or laws and so for those reasons I would indulge myself in a brief musing, attempting to make some bounded generalizations grounded on experience and past reflections. So much for this flowery introduction.

Is love found in the stream of normality, where it is appreciated when the person has a degree and a stable job?
Is it found in coffee shops, created through a brief exchange of smiles and stares?
Is it found in the comfort of a mother’s embrace, as when a child is lulled into a trance-like sleep where angels are the baby’s only companions?
Or is it realized in a time of strife, when there is nothing else to hold on to, when even hope is no longer a tangible concept?

Perhaps in that short enumeration one can really find it, for the simple reason that we and we alone can define it for ourselves. But when and where it starts (and ends for that matter) seems to me an indefatigable issue. Its bounds have started to get blurred from my viewpoint. And as I lay down wasted amongst the ruins of past connections, I can only say that the person who can carry on its definition(s) is that person alone. Love is vivid in its sudden surges, when it comes to you unannounced. It is left for us to sustain it. It is left for us to give it a form. A form that sometimes gets in the way of duties framed by normality. Again, a phenomenon that only gives substance to its description of being irrational.

But love, when brewed with hate and fighting, turns into a sickly concoction that consumes even your sweetest dreams. And when it finally goes away, it leaves you in a vacuum, as if in the wake of a terrible fever. An emptiness. An emptiness that can only be filled (or destroyed) by the same tumult that is love.

Hence treat even the most formative of your steps towards it as a matter of life and death. Love, as far as experience is concerned, is a still water, infested with dangers and sweets at the same time. Attractive and dreadful at the same time. A source of comfort and of insecurity at the same time. But perhaps that makes the experience of love akin to religion or belief. You have a choice to wager for in both ends, you get to make yourself a better person. If you love and have been loved in return, then good. If you love and you are not loved in return, be thankful, for you can still move on to another form of it and make things work for you.

And so to a large extent, it is a gift to humanity in order for men to fully realize who they are as persons.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Love can never be defined by normality. if you really love a person and he/she loves you in return, this is an opportunity that you shouldn't miss.