A friend and I have been discussing love—what is it? Can it be defined? Should it be?
I’m a fan of M. Scott Peck’s iconic self-help book The Road Less Traveled
in which he defines love as “The will to extend one’s self for the purpose of nurturing one’s or another’s spiritual growth.”I always liked that, although my definition of “spiritual” may not be the same as yours. But I do believe love means helping the other person grow—in the direction he or she chooses. That’s pretty key. “Helping” your loved one grow in ways you choose is not love, it’s control. And I like that Peck’s definition of love requires some sort of action, some effort. To my mind, love without action is an empty word--even if sometimes that action means walking away. (If you love something, let it go and blah blah blah.)
My friend likes Robert Sternberg’s theory of three types of love: romantic, companionate and commitment. That also makes sense to me, and the two definitions aren’t mutually exclusive.
But she also questioned whether defining love at all is wise, since it invites judging other people’s relationships. Who are we to say whether another couple is loving or not when we don’t and can’t live in their hearts, minds or relationships? Good point—we can’t know what makes someone else’s relationship work (or not work, for that matter) and to condemn something we don’t understand is just bigotry. And stupidity.
But I would argue that there is benefit to guidelines on what love is and isn’t because a lot of people seem to get confused. Women in abusive relationships sometimes believe their menfolk are driven to abuse because of deep love. Some people confuse sexual desire for love. Some people think that love is static--that once it is declared it need not be tended. Some people think love=drama. (I thank pop culture for that, since companionate love is rarely depicted, except occasionally in country music.) That would probably be my love vice.
But I’m pretty careful with the word “love,” as I am with the word “friend.” I don’t slap it on any old attraction until I’ve thoroughly parsed it.
Tom and I love each other and, I’m sure he would agree, it’s not always easy-cheesy. It’s not just a matter of deciding it, declaring it and getting on with our lives. Sometimes love requires conflict. Sometimes it requires sacrifice. Sometimes it requires boundaries. Sometimes it requires restraint. Sometimes it requires courage. Sometimes it requires saying, “I’m sorry.” (Take that, Ali McGraw.) All of which require effort.
3 comments:
Love does take many forms.
In Mark's and my 32+ years of wedded "bliss" (a term very loosely used), there have been times that the only true thread has been pure sexual need, the fact that each is a convenient companion to a social event or the fact that we share homeownership, parenting (kids and pets), a business, or a mutual community activity.
It sure has heck has NOT been continued romance, passion and laughter - although we have been lucky to share a lot of that too.
Whatever the reason that we are still together and committed (to each other, not to a mental institution), it just has been... We have always been there for each other, we've held hands, we've comforted, we've shared.
And that's nice.
As someone who will celebrate her 39th wedding anniversary a week from Saturday, I'd love to be able to say what love is. But I can't. I can only say that for me, it's the deepest, most abiding connection to another person. It's so strong, that simultaneous with saying "eff you! I can't talk about this anymore!" you realize that this will be comfortably prioritized within an hour or two.
It's a feeling like no other.
"...Sometimes it requires saying, 'I’m sorry.'”
NEVER!
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