A reflection on the nature of "love" . . .

What follows is no new thoughts, no new insights . . . just one lonely person's rambling in the night, trying to figure himself out: at times the hopeless romantic, at times the realist. What follows is a discussion with . . . myself.

So, as established in a few previous blogs, I am a hopeless romantic. I am a dreamer. I write sappy love songs to the object of my affection, albeit, so far, none have ever actually heard said love songs. I dream of her night and day, decline to eat because it holds no savour, decline to work because it holds no purpose. I desire the fairy tale relationship, the rose-colored glasses, etc., etc.

But how realistic is such a relationship? The unfortunate realist in me must acknowledge that is really isn't. At all. Love is messy. It's not easy. It's not all peaces and cream. It's not like the movies, it's not like the valentine's day cards.

But it's not emotionless, either. Passion (not sex) for another individual can be quite genuine. In fact, it seems to me that real love could be the prerequisite for passion; that all-encompassing emotional response that has no quantifiable objective other than to feel strong . . . somethings . . . toward another.

But is passion a valid basis for a relationship? While the world at large, collectively, seems to be shouting a resounding "yes", I would bet that most people, if honestly asked, would disagree. Passion can be fleeting . . . especially if that passion has no basis in anything other than physical or emotional attraction. People change; physically, emotionally, mentally, even spiritually . . . and if the passion is based on any of those things . . . it is doomed to wither and die.

No. Love. Real, honest, love is choice. It is choosing to actively love (v.) another person. Committing that nothing, no matter what, will ever change the way I treat you. People say it all the time in wedding vows, and are so happy to because of the hormones racing through their blood; "to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part." But very few really consider the cost of such a vow, if indeed they mean to keep it.

But is commitment without passion worth it? I hesitate, but I would say "no". However, I think that but perhaps honest commitment results in passion. What we choose to actively love inevitably creates emotional attachment in our hearts. When we decide to act towards someone with their best interest above our own, that sacrifice breaks something within us . . . it breaks down our god-complex and makes our reality no longer revolve around us. It may come slowly, but I believe that when we love (v.) it can turn into love (n.).

But is that emotion even worth it? To open yourself up to such pain? To such vulnerability to rejection? Oh, the thought makes me cringe. I want to wrap myself up in a blanket and shut the world out.

And how do we justify those other passions? Can we? Is it wrong to feel your stomach go in knots when the girl you're "head over heels for" walks by? Is it wrong to feel physical attraction to someone? To be knocked speechless by beauty? It's hard to say. . . we've so corrupted those feelings. Are these transient, experiential, feelings a justifiable reason to begin a relationship?

I don't know. I want to say "yes", but I have a hard time with that. I don't feel like it's an honest answer. And yet these signs of passion are the things I desire with every fiber of my being. How can I desire them so, when every brain cell tells me that in the end, they are meaningless? Am I so corrupted? Am I so backwards?

I suppose the answer would be that they are inseparable, when viewed correctly. We are beings of multiplicity . . . of body, of mind, of will, of emotion, of spirit. . . and all would, ideally, be involved in the truest acts of love.

While I abhor the use of Christ as an example to justify my own ideas, I must say it seems to fit in this instance. Christ, as He died for us, fulfilled all of love. He is Love. He defines it. So, what do I see at the cross? I see a God-man who made the choice to die . . . to give up his body, actively submitting His will to the Father for the sake of the people, refusing to let His mind convince Him otherwise, passionately crying out for the forgiveness of those who pierced Him, even letting His spirit take on ALL eternal consequence for EVERY thing ever done to miss the mark of His Father's perfection. I see Him loving us with every shred of His existence.

Perhaps romantic love is simply a picture that points at this, the supreme example of Love. However imperfect our love is, however flawed, however damaged, however corrupted we have made it, it still points toward the source of what could be. Can I love like Him? Can I put aside everything of me for the sake of another?

Honestly, it doesn't seem realistic. Or romantic.