I can't say I'm terribly more qualified than the average reader in this domain. Maybe you didn't notice but seventeen years of school ties around one's neck isn't much different to a stripy noose. Even so, I can speak from personal experience but don't expect it to be decorated with billion dollar castles and dashing princes on white horses leaping out of fairy tales.
There are abundant slick little phrases that describe love, billions of books so eloquent, from Romeo and Juliet to Jane Eyre. As the tales commonly begin, I wasn't interrogating every testosterone-ridden teenage male in a five mile radius for my other half. To be honest, I can't imagine many people that would carry out such an effort. As the story usually starts, we were friends first of all. I could go as far as to argue that there were sparks immediately, perhaps in a way I had yet to fully comprehend. I need not to wander into the depths of detail and I can inform you that things soured too quickly for anyone to notice it was out of date.
Two years have shed and life is a very shaken-but-not-stirred kind of paradise. So what is this bizarre thing we dedicate so much of our limited and precious time to? Religious leaders have sworn it is the mark of Gods, mothers said it was in their smiles when they first held their babies in their arms. For decades, the great philosophers have bickered that it could be all just an illusion of the complex mind. Nowadays, animal rights activists will protest that other species are born with it too. Scientists spew out five thousand word dissertations on chemicals in the human brain in their sleep and psychologists will each individually define nature over nurture and past experiences as "the key". How can we possibly answer this question?
A different viewpoint is needed. Average out human life events. Birth, early years, school, next stage in school, university/college, work, marriage, children, more work, retirement, hobbies, grandchildren, illness and finally death. A grim description of a very normal eighty or so years. However, let's cut out the generic gooey "fall-in-love" stage.
After some careful thought, I believe our desire to love and be loved by others is our intrinsic horror of our own individuality among a pack of over seven billion, the harsh realisation of our contained impact on the globe that dies with us upon becoming an octogenarian and a defense barrier to protect us from the poisonous negativity and bitter hate that thrives within a corruptible doubtful species such as our own. And to the scientists, I must tell you that I don't quite have the same emotions munching on a chocolate bar as kissing my beloved goodbye. Chemistry isn't everything, is it, Mister Potter?
The consequences of rejecting the joy-inducing Beatles song seem rather severe. However, I think we can use our logic to say shelter and food would remain our main sustenance - unless you are a vicious love-gobbling monster going under the alias of Ian Duncan Smith. Why do we need it? Is it essential? Well yes and no. To some degree, love is a necessary ingredient for the cake of a human life to rise to proper maturity and sophistication. There are thousands of studies that state in order for your little mini-you to become the doctor/lawyer/engineer/dancer that you so hope them to be, you must love your child and show this affection on a daily basis - sounds tedious. Scum that neglect their offspring can inspire terrible events in which can land that particular kid in care, living with other family members, being bullied, assaulted, turning violent, aggressive, in trouble with the police, lonely, with mental health problems, a drug dependency or onto the streets to live or make their wage out of desperation. The list composes itself. And so, since it is essential to enable babies, infants and children to form bonds with family and others, is love so important after these developmental stages? Does it still shape us as a person during adulthood?
Again, the answer is interchangeable. We have grown up with a good childhood, minimal issues, healthy relationships with family and friends. Now what do we do? Do we still need the elixir of love? I would argue, yes. This is because in order to maintain that healthy mind and personality we require a dose every so often. And the tearful reality is that many do not reach the developmental stages with full love and support. Plenty of adults will speak of neglect and abuse present in their younger years. But now more questions have been raised than answered; What happens when we reject offerings of love?
I name this my "Post-Love" era. To the ear it sings a depressing tune but I personally find peace. Perhaps humanity has become severely dependent upon receiving lashings of love and we have detached from the selfless endurance that is caring for one without expecting a form of "payment". Suffering through rejection with an open heart is the most eye-opening glimpse of reality one could ever dream of. You might be curiously confused yet I have discovered the experience somewhat liberating. This enables you to empathise in the shoes of another, to logically piece together their situation and to apply compassion as a strong shield of armour around them. Without pain we are not "human". As an artist, I can appreciate the quaint beauty that twists through everything.
Although, I have been informed by several friends that denying love and affection is self-neglect of the mind, soul and heart and I am merely cutting off a metaphorical poisoned limb to ease the burning loneliness if I convince myself I am a better person without it. Understanding their opinion is different from accepting it. They make a fair point - to deny others is to deny our own essence and being. But I am not doing this out of spite. I think it more of a respite from constant chasing of whimsical things that are unlikely to exist and by that I mean the pursuit of one's true love. It would be very difficult as a human to not desire to believe in such a fantasy but it is in no way logical. Love exists but no two people are perfect for each other.
My motivation? Constant rejection. Loneliness. Watching marriages crumble, divorce papers flying in with the wind, rebuffed children, families separated by continents, murder, abuse of babies and infants, kids dumped in care. Surely we need to address other people's happiness instead of diving into the pool without thought to grab ours first. It's not a path I wish to jog down because it is a wasteful hateful way that will lead straight to unfulfilled dreams gathering dust on a wonky shelf. We forget we have the ability to love without being tied into a give-and-take contract.
Rejecting the common love-and-be-loved ideal does not mean you can't hum along to that catchy Beatles tune. When it's over, you should visualise all the billions of minds inspired by those words, empty hearts that found kindness in those notes, pain healed by the dedication rather than the band watching the clock spin while playing tonsil-tennis with their beloveds. Because that would be all we needed.
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