With Valentine’s Day right around the corner, we are once again inclined to pose the following questions: what is love, and why is it so difficult to interpret? Difficult to define? Difficult to find? Can love be extended onto inanimate objects? Or, is it a word solely reserved to describe human emotions, felt about one another, like a significant other perhaps?
Furthermore, although cliché, some individuals may even go so far as to suggest that our lives—the entirety of the human experience—is consummated by this quest for love and acceptance. And, if so, what is it exactly that we are searching for? What does love entail precisely? And why is it something that we so innately desire?
So, of course, before I begin, it is important to note that love in itself, the definition and the associated sentiments, are all subjective. The meanings of words are never absolute. They always entail a personal rendition, a personal experience associated with the particular word uttered, and so forth. With that being said, here is my own, personal rendition of what love is:
Love is when I wake up early, while the rest of world is still quietly snoozing, deep in their slumber.
Love is when my children excitedly greet me at the door, their tiny faces smiling brightly as they fanatically recount their day.
Love is the calm I feel when I wake, with nowhere to go and nothing to do.
Love is when I’m driving home at night after a long, busy day—the feeling of contentment and accomplishment filling the 4 corners of the moving vehicle.
Love is secure and comfortable, characterized by trust and complete acceptance.
Love is a safety net, free of insecurities and doubts.
Love is the sound of moving water (a lake, a pond, the ocean) late at night—a calming and soothing occurrence.
Love is the cool air I feel after I step out from a steamy shower.
Love is comfortable and free. It does not restrict nor restrain. And, it does not trump personal liberties nor independence.
Love is protective, warding of all that is negative and, ultimately, helping me keep my aggression at bay.
Love is complete acceptance. Accordingly, there’s no discernable need to worry about first impressions, looks, and outward perceptions. The one I love, the one I truly love, loves me exactly for who I am and exactly for who I am not. We love one another, deficits and all.
Love is the comfort I feel wearing oversized dad sweaters.
Love is the fervor and exuberance exhibited when people discuss matters concerning their passions and ambitions.
Love is the solace I feel when someone takes time out of their day to listen, truly listen, without interrupting.
Love is when someone eagerly does an activity with me—one that isn’t of particular interest to them, but of interest to me.
Love is the chaos of family events—children screaming and running from corner to corner, laughing, crying, bursting with ruckus and vitality.
Love is awkward. The unification of two imperfect souls.
Love is the person you turn to when you’re having a bad day—your support system, your “brick wall.”
Love is a verb, an action if you will. You must give, to receive.
Love is constructive, not passive. You want something? You want someone? Well, you have to go get it and make it materialize.
Love is the feeling of connection—a profound, sentimental unity of two separate entities.
Love is an investment. We must expend a lot of time and energy to solidify such a sturdy partner structure.
Love is wild and explosive and full of cheery laughter.
Love is empathy, both negative and positive. You cry, I cry. You laugh wildly, I do too.
And love, above all else, can also be fleeting. Sometimes we wonder how we’ll ever rebuild, but we always do, how we’ll ever love again. But we always do.
Love is strength.
And love is empowering, offering newfound confidence and support.
Love is life-changing, disrupting every minuscule detail of what we have previously envisioned for ourselves.
That’s my individualized (and potentially idealistic) sense of love. What’s yours?
(Courtesy of Pinterest)