Love, Love, Love

Love is like porn. You know it when you see it.

We’ve spent too much time trying to dissect love. It resists the attempt. It’s complicated, like everything involving human brains.

It’s so complicated that we call the brain the heart. We abstract the organ.

I’ve seen love defined as an action. But it’s not that. I’ve seen love defined as a feeling. It’s not that either.

I’ve seen love defined as a deep-seated affection. That’s closer to the mark, maybe. Or maybe not.

I’ve heard it said, You wouldn’t have done that if you loved me. That might be true. Or it might just be one of those things we say when we’ve already left the room.

It’s hard to be holistic. It’s a stupid word. And there’s a lot of work have a well-rounded view of, well… anything.

Still, it’s worth it. At least I think so. It’s worth escaping the dark, confined spaces of a small opinion.

And it makes it easier to be alive in this world. I’m not judging the quality of your love. I’m not going inside your head with a scalpel and trying figure out if you’ve got just the right mix of action and emotion…

The smaller the view, the smaller the prison.

And you know who ends up there? You do. Not those other people.

That’s a good reason to resist turning love into a cartoon thing. At least, I think so.