What is love?

I’ve pondered the answer to this question for a really long time. And not just questioning what it is, but how can I put it into words? I could easily tell you what love is not. But to describe in a way that encapsulates the complexity of what love is? That’s a totally different story.

I remember laying on my bed, next to my late partner, when the inspiration hit me to write about my perspective. We were talking and laughing. When I looked at him, I had this overwhelming feeling, like something had crashed into me and lit up every cell in my body and every space in that moment. Everything in that moment slowed down, almost as if time had stopped as I absorbed and allowed myself the thought, “I love him,” quickly followed by “Why?”

At the time, this was weird to me because while the love was obviously there, I hadn’t been allowing myself to see it in that light. We were in our “just friends” phase after our breakup. He would come over and spend time with us often because no matter what our status was we were still a family and we still had love. It never really mattered what dynamic we chose to follow.

But I digress. I started to stare off, wondering how to put this epiphany into words. There was a deep urge to find a way pulling at me. I felt like the answer to this famous question had finally hit me and I finally knew, deep into my being, how to articulate what love is. (Yet, I’m only just now, years later, writing it out.)

The word “love”, in its simplicity, is yet rather complex. I think that may be why we have such a hard time understanding it in its entirety. Because while there is often an intense feeling, likely caused by a chemical or energetic rush, that’s only one layer.

Peel off another layer and you’ll see that love is effortlessly allowing someone to be themselves. We love them as they are, we want them as they are, and to be who they are at their core. We support them because on a much deeper level, we care about every part of their being. It’s seeing them, understanding them, feeling them.

When we love someone, we love the way they understand us. We love how easy it is to be ourselves around them. We feel safe. We love their interests. We love the way they view the world. We love their presence. We love how they make us feel and we love the things that they say, do, and believe. We love their inner most intimate and vulnerable parts.

Do I love her adventurous spirit? I may not love the music that he likes, but, do I love that he loves it? Do I realize that they are not a thing that belongs to me?

I’ve always liked a saying of which I’ll paraphrase, “Love in such a way that makes them feel free.” I feel that if someone has to fit into a box that we have created for them in order for us to love them, we don’t love them. If we tell them we love them only if they fit into that box, then love isn’t the driving force. It’s more a mask, a misused label. Love isn’t a cage. It isn’t conditional. It doesn’t even require a relationship.

Love allows us to be free to be ourselves. Love cares and supports. Love releases. Love allows something to just be as it is. Love is kind.

And as complex as it is in its entirety, we can love in the simplest of ways. We can show love in acts of service. We can love as a vibration. We can love in genuine care. We can love by being present.

I think when we say that “love sucks” or “love hurts” it’s actually the absence of love that is being spoken of. It is so much greater than a four-letter word.

Love is something outside of that is every part of us at the same time.

P.S. If you read this with a specific person, place, or thing on your mind, wouldn’t it be fun to reread it as if the person you love is you?

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