For some reason, it has been a bad month for many of my friends. A lot of people who have been in serious relationships (some engaged) for the past year or more have broken up and gone their separate ways. Maybe the weather has gotten cooler and passion dies when signs of life quiet down. Maybe days are getting shorter and that makes us feel more angst. Maybe as Thanksgiving and Christmas draw nearer and nearer, it’s soon going to be prime meeting-the-family-time and if you don’t break up now you’ll prob have to wait till after Valentine’s Day. For someone whose heart is set like cold jello, that’s helluva long time.
On one hand, it is heart wrenching to watch them suffer, but on the other hand, I always say, sooner rather than later, you know?
Love is one of those beasts we can try to tame but then as soon as we do it dies. Like faith, defining it means reducing it to merely an aspect of the whole. And as soon as we do, it becomes almost necessary to worship it like a religion, thus we often find ourselves bound and blind to possibilities outside of our normal range of imagination. As an ideal, love conjures a hypnotic concoction of loss of self, of wild dreams, of grandiosity – the society we’re raised in makes us believe that these affiliated notions of “love” constitute it entirely. We proactively look for these notions- for the fluttering of the heart, for serendipity, for stories, for The Look, for grand gestures. And when there are signs of it missing from our relationships or our pursuit of these relationships, we write off whatever is in front of us as “not meant to be”.
This is not what love is. If you are still looking for this and you believe this is love, you’ll either end up very hurt or end up hurting a lot of people.
Typically, in my posts I offer a list of pointers – 1, 2, 3, bold, underlined, indented. But for this particular post, there really is only one message:
Love is not really about you.
I have been reading this book by Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh recently. It is this palm-sized little thing called “How to Love“. In it, he says:
“To love is not to possess the other person or to consume all their attention and love. To love is to offer the other person joy and a balm for their suffering. This capacity is what we have to learn and cultivate.”
When we make love to be about ourselves, several things start to happen:
- We begin to have endless criteria on our list, requirements for the person that we think we can love, without so much considering what makes us so special that they should love us back
- We begin to expect more from our relationships, and this makes us erroneously believe that the stake for being in the relationship is now higher. We have more negative reactions to the other person, sweat the small stuff, and poison the kindness we once shared with the other person.
- We begin to think we deserve more, and start to lose appreciation and compassion for the other person that is so key in continuously cultivating love.
- We begin to fear losing the other person. We try to control them, “fix” them so they can be “better”, or, we might realize that they’re wrong for us but still refuse to let them go.
None of these behaviors are indications of love. You may think it is because you tell yourself you care (a lot!!), but what you really care about is you, not the other person who is on the receiving end of any love you have to give.
I know, you’re probably sitting there going, “This is stupid. Fuck you.” I don’t blame you. It is hard. Human beings are inherently selfish. I only ask that you think about this a bit more. Take some time, ponder it over. Given what happened in Paris, Beirut, and everywhere else in the world recently, love is so heavily needed in the world we live in, now more than ever.
Give, be a balm for someone else’s suffering. Be a source of light, not darkness.
XOXO,
V.