Mourning

Love is not a feeling.

Love creates a feeling as a result of actions taken by the person doing the loving, or the person receiving the loving.

Love is not like. Love is not fondness, infatuation, attraction, being keen on... It's none of those things. Love is behavior. Love is something that exists outside yourself.

Love is not something you can lay claim to without evidence in action. You cannot honestly nor accurately say that you love some one when the person has not been the benefactor of loving actions. You can not love some one from the other side of the world without tremendous self-sacrifice and a lot of money.

St. Theresa did not say "I love the little orphans" and then go on to live a cloistered life spending a small portion of her time serving them. She spent her life, risked her health, and dedicated all her efforts to the service of those she loved.

Love is not kissing someone. Love is not sex. Love is not thinking fondly of someone.

Love is cleaning your house because it'll make all the other people who live in it comfortable and safe. Love is paying attention to needs and doing your best, when you are able, to meet those needs even if it isn't fun or easy. Love is without ego. Love is not prideful. Love is not lazy.

The only kind of love that conquers all is perfect love -- love is like hard and grueling work. Love is not a walk on a sandy beach, nor is it a romantic picnic under a moonlit summer sky. Those things are merely celebrations of love, or they are charades -- they are something more sinister-- they masquerade as love to those without discerning hearts and wisdom.

Do not, do NOT, DO NOT say "I love you." It is worthless. It is all a vanity. If you love, then you DO, you do not say. Words are meaningless. You cannot make an argument for love. You cannot prove love with logic.

When shakespeare wrote his sonnets, he was not speaking. He was giving. He was giving the world, or his beloved, or perhaps himself a gift. He was an intensley creative man. To create takes great effort and discipline, and to create for some one else is ten times harder than if you would create for yourself. To write a sonnet or a poem, to make a piece of art or to write a piece of music for someone else is an act of love because it is an act of creation, a giving of a piece of yourself, giving of your time and talents... provided you don't do a half-assed and shitty job. Just like every other action under the sun, this one can be judged by motive.

When someone prepares their home for you, they are loving you. They are creating a place for you to be comfortable. A sight and smell for your eyes to enjoy. They are sharing their space, their possessions, their freedoms with you. They are paying for your well-being.

When someone surprises you, they are loving you. They have taken the time to watch you unselfishly. They have taken the time to CREATE a plan, to provide you with joy, entertainment, and perhaps something more.

When someone stays home to care for you because you are sick, they are loving you. When your parents let you sit in jail overnight for a DUI, they are loving you. When they take away the internet, or keep you from dating a particular guy... they are very likely in the midst of loving you.

But when they give you candy to stop crying, or bail you out, or pay your fines... or when a man gives you flowers after a fight, or writes a letter after you dump him... or when your husband gives you a speech and outlines how he has loved you, or your boyfriend presents every argument... or when a man tells you you're pretty -- DO NOT for one minute believe you are being loved. Maybe you are being appreciated, manipulated, placated, bribed, convinced, lied to, or liked... but you are not being loved.