love has its reasons.

“love has its reasons the mind knows not.” when i fall in love, i don’t understand why it is happening to me, why i feel the way i do about her. all i know is that i am in love, and powerless to resist the feeling. the feeling commands the thoughts, orients, re-orients, the philosophy; my entire view of the world and the way i value everything in it changes. things that before seemed to matter become suddenly gray and irrelevant, things that before i didn’t care about suddenly come into colorful focus and become important. and the observer in me observes. observes all this and wonders. wonders at my powerlessness over this feeling. what is in a feeling?

truth i understand, beauty i understand — but love i do not understand. the beauty about love is that without love i would not value truth. the truth about beauty is that without love i wouldn’t value beauty. love is that wellspring of desire, that assertion of life, from which all things spring. truly it is spoken that love is the alpha, the explosion, the god’s power that created the universe. how else can things be, lest they be singing?

before falling in love, i was dead in my heart. in my deadness i was content, a kind of frozen numbness, a kind of calculated detachment. i was loyal to my aesthetic vision, loyal to the good, the true, the beautiful — but a fatalistic knight, seeking an honorable death. there was nothing in life for me, but the fulfillment of duty. life was a tasteless thing, full of empty thrills. romance was only seduction, and love was only a fantasy constructed atop lust. monogamy was a great prison, and to be feared. seduction was a game to play, but who could conquer me? i was far away, and even in my transparency and openness, nobody could reach my heart. here! here it is! can you reach me? you cannot reach me. i cannot reach myself. i am resigned to the flatness, the shadowlands, the purgatory of existence.

and then, what is in meeting a person? there are so many people i have met. so many souls that have passed me by in this endless cycling through the spheres of life… this subway ride of here and there. and none of these eyes have seen into my eyes. and none of these hearts have called to my heart. and none of these minds have spoken into my inner ear.

and then this one comes. and she is but a distant voice, a far away light, an accidental encounter shrouded with that sense of destined meeting. i don’t realize it as it is happening, but my defenses so quickly fall, and the light, her light, the memory of her, of her voice, grows in me — and i am drawn, drawn to seek her. so i come from far away to meet her. and already before meeting, i somehow know i am done for. and in meeting, i feel a prophecy fulfilled. and after meeting, i fear a doom coming.

and the doom came. and as love would have its way, i find myself again in a love perhaps unrequited. still, i don’t care. why don’t i care? why don’t i play this tit-for-tat game of like turning into lust turning into love, of friendship blossoming into romance?

i spoke into the silence to tell her i love her. after i did that, i surprisingly felt set free and at peace. there is an ongoing torture to being in love, and certainly in a love unrequited, but… it is a bearable torture. the unbearable torture is in denying the love that is inside you.

why is it bearable to be in love? it is bearable because somehow the love that is inside of me doesn’t care to be loved back. it just wants to pay tribute. to kneel and to worship and to serve. to admire and to declare what it sees as that which is most beautiful and worthy.

how can it know? isn’t it superficial? beauty is fleeting. do i see what is within, and not just what is without? i don’t know. i just know. i just feel this way. i can give you reason after reason. i don’t know if the reasons are valid. and they are certainly based on very few interactions.

there is something magical at work behind all reasons. something beyond understanding. something of the soul. something of the intuition. something of beauty beyond the physical; the sublime and the aesthetic and the sacred beauty of heaven. something of the goddess that is revealed.

in falling in love, i could be criticized of many things, but above all: that it is irrational, and secondly, that it is overvaluing the other, and undervaluing the self, and thirdly, that it is a projection onto the other person. i am just seeing her anima, the idea of her, as opposed to the very real person.

all of these criticisms are valid, and love is painful, and yet i love nonetheless. it is a surprising thing to realize that there is an achilles heel. at least one thing i don’t have control over. one thing that makes me suddenly feel alive. a pain that is the highest pleasure. a strange fate, to be human.