[This is a response to some thoughts posted by Miss Atomic Bomb following her completion of a book on romantic love. Thanks for these - the thoughts are interesting and insightful, and have spawned much thought of my own. As my ramblings on the subject are too lengthy to post as a comment, I post them here instead. I premise this by stating I've not read the book, but am interested to do so, and will post more on this subject once I've read it. Thus, these comments may turn out to be irrelevant or a misinterpretation on my part.]
It seems to me that "love," as defined by this book, is not really "love" at all. I guess I'm not clear one exactly what "romantic love" is in this context.
People often disambiguate lust from love, but this is insufficient - especially as lust has come to represent mostly physical (sexual) attraction. There is an equivalent attraction - one which is selfish (as in it is based around the desire of the lover, rather than care for the beloved) - but is not based around the physical. Instead, it is an attraction to be with them, to be in their company - perhaps to laugh and flirt with them - a lust of personality. It is something that has, at times, been differentiated by the concepts "to love someone" and "to be in love with someone." There is all the difference in the world to say "I love you" or to say "I'm in love with you." For the sake of clarity (by avoiding the duplication of the word "love") I call the latter phenomenon infatuation. It is not to be confused with what the author (I think) describes as adoration - which is remote, distant, and absorbed in the thing itself (to "love being in love", one might say). I don't think it is fair to describe love as an emotion. It is not something you feel. One may feel "in love," but one actively "loves." Whilst these things (lust and infatuation) are components of, and paths toward, genuine romantic love - they are in no way synonymous with love itself. Perhaps, in that sense, this book is really about infatuation, rather than love. But, if that is the case, then I'd argue the difference ought to be clearly stated, to avoid confusion over such statements as "I love you," and to avoid the devaluation of the greater and constructive force that is genuine love.
All those initial feelings that are usually described as "love" ought not, in my opinion, be so labeled. Love is something very specific. Sometimes I say "I love you." Sometimes "I adore you." Sometimes "I worship you." Sometimes "you look beautiful," sometimes "I fancy you" or sometimes "you look hot." All have different meanings. "I love you" is the most powerful of these, however - for it is focused on the beloved, and expresses a thing which is not "emotional," not fluctuating, not dependent on the lover and his/her surroundings. There can be situations where I cease to adore, cease to find beauty, have diminished sexual drive - but I do not cease to love. Take an external situation - say being within a burning building with your beloved. Feelings of adoration, attraction and desire all necessarily fade, but the feeling of love intensifies. In such a scenario, one would chose a course of action that reflects that love - to put the beloved before oneself, without thought or hesitation.
I think there need not be such a strong separation between romantic love and agape - they are both selfless, and focused on the good of the beloved (or recipient), rather than the fulfilling of some need in the lover. Genuine love delights in the beloved - in their very existence. The delights of fulfilling desire for that person is quite secondary to that dancing in the soul that is induced simply by experiencing the revelation that they exist. To thus equate romantic love with lust and infatuation is to devalue it. Romantic love is exceptional, as it contains two very powerful quantities: it has the potential to be all encompassing (by that, I mean that all aspects of attraction, desire, friendship, companionship, comradeship and intellectual stimulation are possible within the relationship) and it is equal (there is no hierarchy or imbalance of dependency). It is this uniqueness that makes it valuable, and that also induces fear and reluctance to love completely.
As for the nature of duplicate loves - I think duplicate infatuation is inherently possible (and it is perfectly clear that duplicate lust is possible). But love, by definition, puts the beloved first. If there is more than one beloved, one necessarily and inevitably has to rank them in some way, or at least make choices between them, thus compromising the love. Two concurrent loves divides the capacity to love, rather than duplicates it (again, infatuation and lust can both be duplicated). One can, of course, draw parallels between this and the love for children - where one parent may love several children equally. But this is a parallel that can be only taken so far: love for children is an imbalanced love, in some way like the love of a pet - there's an imbalance of dependency, and of responsibility. Again, romantic love is one of equals.
I recall an old film (probably pre 1950) that I saw when I was probably around 12 years old. In particular, there was a scene on board a large, grand ship (perhaps a Cunard ship crossing the Altantic). There were two girls on the ship - a blond and a brunette (of course!). Two guys were talking, admiring the girls from the deck above, and one of them asked the other "If the ship went down, which one would you save?" Being produced in height of the Motion Picture Production Code years, this was probably written in place of the direct question "which one would you sleep with?" that would be screened without thought in the modern era. Of course, the answer to this could easily be "both." But, as is so often the case when speech is restricted, the act of engaging in the dance with the censors spawned art of greater subtlety. Instead of making this question one of desire (simply answered) it brushed on something deeper. Of course, you'd probably desire to save both, out of pure humanity if nothing else. But, given the situation, you'd have to choose whom to aid first. Love requires choice. [I know all this is rather dated and sexist - assuming the girls can't swim or something - but I hope you can look past this to see the deeper truth being illuminated.]
I also think the heavy weighting and repeated common reference to the honeymoon period is ill-founded (or, at least, ill-applied). I can only understand this from a superficial view of desire. Of course, there is strong desire (both sexually and in desire for personality) in the initial stages of a relationship which, in principle, can decay over time. However, it need not - for interest is spawned from variety, and variety need not diminish with a single lover. Passion need not fade. We need not be "let down." Instead, lovers may grow together, becoming increasingly attuned to each others' personality and sexuality, becoming increasingly adventurous and experimental. Romeo and Juliet was a tragedy, a story of youthful desire and infatuation. Their youthfulness and death was a reflection on juvenile desire - it was never a monument to genuine romantic love.
It seems to me that "love," as defined by this book, is not really "love" at all. I guess I'm not clear one exactly what "romantic love" is in this context.
People often disambiguate lust from love, but this is insufficient - especially as lust has come to represent mostly physical (sexual) attraction. There is an equivalent attraction - one which is selfish (as in it is based around the desire of the lover, rather than care for the beloved) - but is not based around the physical. Instead, it is an attraction to be with them, to be in their company - perhaps to laugh and flirt with them - a lust of personality. It is something that has, at times, been differentiated by the concepts "to love someone" and "to be in love with someone." There is all the difference in the world to say "I love you" or to say "I'm in love with you." For the sake of clarity (by avoiding the duplication of the word "love") I call the latter phenomenon infatuation. It is not to be confused with what the author (I think) describes as adoration - which is remote, distant, and absorbed in the thing itself (to "love being in love", one might say). I don't think it is fair to describe love as an emotion. It is not something you feel. One may feel "in love," but one actively "loves." Whilst these things (lust and infatuation) are components of, and paths toward, genuine romantic love - they are in no way synonymous with love itself. Perhaps, in that sense, this book is really about infatuation, rather than love. But, if that is the case, then I'd argue the difference ought to be clearly stated, to avoid confusion over such statements as "I love you," and to avoid the devaluation of the greater and constructive force that is genuine love.
All those initial feelings that are usually described as "love" ought not, in my opinion, be so labeled. Love is something very specific. Sometimes I say "I love you." Sometimes "I adore you." Sometimes "I worship you." Sometimes "you look beautiful," sometimes "I fancy you" or sometimes "you look hot." All have different meanings. "I love you" is the most powerful of these, however - for it is focused on the beloved, and expresses a thing which is not "emotional," not fluctuating, not dependent on the lover and his/her surroundings. There can be situations where I cease to adore, cease to find beauty, have diminished sexual drive - but I do not cease to love. Take an external situation - say being within a burning building with your beloved. Feelings of adoration, attraction and desire all necessarily fade, but the feeling of love intensifies. In such a scenario, one would chose a course of action that reflects that love - to put the beloved before oneself, without thought or hesitation.
I think there need not be such a strong separation between romantic love and agape - they are both selfless, and focused on the good of the beloved (or recipient), rather than the fulfilling of some need in the lover. Genuine love delights in the beloved - in their very existence. The delights of fulfilling desire for that person is quite secondary to that dancing in the soul that is induced simply by experiencing the revelation that they exist. To thus equate romantic love with lust and infatuation is to devalue it. Romantic love is exceptional, as it contains two very powerful quantities: it has the potential to be all encompassing (by that, I mean that all aspects of attraction, desire, friendship, companionship, comradeship and intellectual stimulation are possible within the relationship) and it is equal (there is no hierarchy or imbalance of dependency). It is this uniqueness that makes it valuable, and that also induces fear and reluctance to love completely.
As for the nature of duplicate loves - I think duplicate infatuation is inherently possible (and it is perfectly clear that duplicate lust is possible). But love, by definition, puts the beloved first. If there is more than one beloved, one necessarily and inevitably has to rank them in some way, or at least make choices between them, thus compromising the love. Two concurrent loves divides the capacity to love, rather than duplicates it (again, infatuation and lust can both be duplicated). One can, of course, draw parallels between this and the love for children - where one parent may love several children equally. But this is a parallel that can be only taken so far: love for children is an imbalanced love, in some way like the love of a pet - there's an imbalance of dependency, and of responsibility. Again, romantic love is one of equals.
I recall an old film (probably pre 1950) that I saw when I was probably around 12 years old. In particular, there was a scene on board a large, grand ship (perhaps a Cunard ship crossing the Altantic). There were two girls on the ship - a blond and a brunette (of course!). Two guys were talking, admiring the girls from the deck above, and one of them asked the other "If the ship went down, which one would you save?" Being produced in height of the Motion Picture Production Code years, this was probably written in place of the direct question "which one would you sleep with?" that would be screened without thought in the modern era. Of course, the answer to this could easily be "both." But, as is so often the case when speech is restricted, the act of engaging in the dance with the censors spawned art of greater subtlety. Instead of making this question one of desire (simply answered) it brushed on something deeper. Of course, you'd probably desire to save both, out of pure humanity if nothing else. But, given the situation, you'd have to choose whom to aid first. Love requires choice. [I know all this is rather dated and sexist - assuming the girls can't swim or something - but I hope you can look past this to see the deeper truth being illuminated.]
I also think the heavy weighting and repeated common reference to the honeymoon period is ill-founded (or, at least, ill-applied). I can only understand this from a superficial view of desire. Of course, there is strong desire (both sexually and in desire for personality) in the initial stages of a relationship which, in principle, can decay over time. However, it need not - for interest is spawned from variety, and variety need not diminish with a single lover. Passion need not fade. We need not be "let down." Instead, lovers may grow together, becoming increasingly attuned to each others' personality and sexuality, becoming increasingly adventurous and experimental. Romeo and Juliet was a tragedy, a story of youthful desire and infatuation. Their youthfulness and death was a reflection on juvenile desire - it was never a monument to genuine romantic love.
Perhaps it is my uncanny ability (or tendency, I suppose is a more appropriate word) to compartmentalize that allows me to see things slightly differently. I agree that there is a difference between what you call love and what you call infatuation, but by your definition, I'd argue that most people only ever experience infatuation. They base relationships and marriages and families upon it, speak of it as "love," and live their lives accordingly. To them, there is a tremendous difference between "romantic love" (infatuation) and "Platonic love" (agape, love for humanity, etc). What you speak of seems to be in between; selfless yet focused. You argue that love cannot be duplicated, as parallel loves create lessened love for each, but I'm not so sure. What of agape, or love for humanity? It must be "applied" equally, which can never occur if we have one "favorite" love instead. For me personally, I can separate these feelings into their constituents: lust, friendship, adoration, altriusm, etc. You seem to speak of a mixture; a coherent and cohesive whole that is comprised of a bit of everything.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, some thoughts.