The Autonomic Biology and Metaphysical Existence of Love.
Recently, I came across a quote I found too compelling to forget. It went something like “We as humans assume that everyone else loves the same way we do; when we do not receive that brand of love, we expect it is not there.” Reading this, I couldn’t help but feel how hopelessly true the concept really is. And it got me thinking about a few things.
We as a species like to think of ourselves as above others because we have a concept of empathy, loss, and love. But our brand of love seems to be so selfish. We cannot quite realize precisely what we deserve or see that what we put out comes back to us in a different form. It’s similar to the idea that nothing is either created or destroyed, merely transformed. Looking at such an abstract concept through the lens of natural law brings about a feeling of metaphysical unease. One might argue that you cannot apply the rules of our natural world to such a concept. Love is, perhaps, the only thing we are capable of that pushes the bounds of natural law. Our love results in mourning, which serves no real survival function. It is the one thing we as 4 dimensional beings have that transcends the bounds of our understanding. We love those that are no longer here, we love those that are right in front of us, we love those that are nowhere near us, and, at least I believe, we love those that we have yet met. Each of us loves the idea that we will love something. A new dog, a new family member, a new lover. There is always this anticipation, whether we notice it or not.
Love is the one thing we own that exists outside the constraints of time or space. Because of this, we don’t entirely understand it.
As much as I agree with that sentiment, I do also believe that even this thing that is so beyond our understanding follows some kind of rule. Love is not created or destroyed, it is transformed and preserved in some way or another. So when we exude love, we should never expect it to return to us in the same way.
Even something as simple as the air we breathe. We force it out of our lungs and it lingers and floats through the air, is drawn into a plant and used to sustain it’s own life. This same plant then creates oxygen, new air that we welcome back. In some way, it is that same breathe. But it is different. It’s new. And perhaps it’s better. No one thinks of it like that; thinking of it like that is neither a priority or even necessary, by any means.
We apply this same logic to love in some way or another, whether we are aware of it or not. We exude love into the world, some more than others, and it returns to us in a form we neither recognize or even have the patience to understand. So, because of this, many of us go on as if it does not exist. Much like the air we breathe, we simply do not regard it. Some part of us knows it’s there. And if we really pay attention, we realize it is. But we just don’t think of it.
You might say this is a silly concept, because love takes much more effort and attention than breathing. But does it? Love is not something we chose, something we engage with actively. We love, often, without even being aware of it. Much like a heartbeat or breathing. We can try to control it as much as possible, but when it comes right down to it, we cannot control it at all. We don’t make it so, it just is.
The idea about it following some kind of natural law, something measurable, is silly. Things that follow natural law can be tested and predicted. We can neither observe or predict love, but it does seem to exist as some kind physical force. Maybe we just haven’t found it’s molecule yet. Maybe it’s just a few centuries down our evolutionary track. Maybe, one day, love (the way we imagine it to be) will truly become as natural as a heartbeat or breathing. Not this confusing thing that seems to exist outside of our understanding, but something that is so much apart of our existence that we no longer regard it. It will simply be a constant, something every being engages with. And then there will be no downside to it.
Like a heartbeat, or a breathe, it will simply become something that we feel, when we become still and quiet. Something that pulses through our bodies in moments when we have nothing else to worry about. Then we will press our finger to that pulse and simply be thankful that we know it’s always there and that, when we want to, we can focus on just that.