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Definitions| | Definitions are a tricky thing. Is there a definition to everything?
Definition is a name. A definition defines a certain matter, names the characteristic of that matter, so that later on, people can easily address that matter. That was the definition of a definition.
The existence of a definition enabled us to see what is what, so that we can address this and that when we need to, but also poses a possible limitation to what is what.
This is this, and that is that, end of story, is what a definition postulates through the act of defining, delineating, and drawing a line to encircle a particular matter, in order to seperate that particular matter from others and to give that particular matter its distinctive shape. A shape that is rigid and allows no room.
But if there were no definitions, then it would be hard to distinguish A and B. Misunderstoods arise, conflicts asoar, we could never communicate and address. We would be stuck in the mist of what we do not know is.
Readers be aware, this is no rock-like essay on the exploitation of the fine philosophies of what defining. Yet, this is just another one of the mundane essays on love and relationships you might be so fed up sick and tired of.
Definition of love. Can love be defined? Suppose it could not be defined, then what does it mean when one says
"your definition of love is different from mine"
Suppose it could be defined, what, exactly is it then?
Some say it is sacrifice, some postulate it is care, some link it with jealously, arguing that one gets jealous because of love.
Some say it is an ultimate level of tacit understanding, some say it is from attraction, a sense of suction that blurs your judgement and deteriorates your rationality to a degree that all you could ever care of is the source of such suction. When you fall in that kind of suction strong than that from a cosmic black hole, they define that you have fallen in love.
Others say it is an amalgamation joy and pain, happyiness and sorrow, sweet and bitter, a conglomeration of emotions so complex that due to the impossibility of giving a definition, the term love was inaugurated to summarize all the sophistication.
And yet some still believe love is all happiness, some even think if you love, you will never get jealous, for love is trust, and when you trust, it is hardly you ever get jealous.
Nevertheless, I still can not pinpoint what love is. I cannot define what love is, so that I have the ability to be able to appreciate how is it possible that when love lacks a definition, there can be a difference of difinition when there is no such thing to compare of.
Perhaps it is the difference describes that of existing definition, and non-existing definition.
Can the definition of love be so extremely clear cut to a degree that one could confidently assert and pinpoint the existence of a difference?
I cannot help but disagree, love is yet to be defined in ones lifetime. Love, is a course with no syllabus, no lecture notes, and instructors everywhere giving midterms every second. Love is the mixture of all those aforementioned possibilities. Love is itself about possibility. Predictably, love is defined as the summation of all emotions, all suctions, all attachments and distances, the complications and care and jealousy, and unconditional sacrifice, and rationality, and irrationality, darkness and light, tears and laughter. Love is the abrupt combination of opposites in the style of mixture you could not imagine yet appreciate and could not help but continuously fall.
Is that my definition?
How do I know I love you? Does thinking about you all day count? Does enduring the sorrow of not being able to hold you right now count? Does being understanding count? Does sacrifice count?
Had I justified sacrifice as an evidence of love, I would have conflicted the possible definition that love is unconditional sacrifice, for my sacrificne evolved to have one particular condition entailing the person's acknowledgement.
Could I sacrifice because I loved, and believed that acknowledgement is not important?
I would be stuck in never ending maze of sacrifice to proove, whilest acknowledgement is never given, I will never finish the job of prooving my love.
Then love would be defined as a series of act that continues to occur, involving sacrifice from both sides until one day, if we are lucky enough, both finally open their eyes and see how much sacrifice has been made
Is that practical? Then some would argue, love has never been pratical.
Yes indeed, after lines of sentence, readers probably think they've wasted their time reading this argument of no end, and I apologize, for Love, there is no definition
Even the oldest would claim love is a tricky business, a funny emotion that we humans have and animals don't; that love, is still as mysterious as it were in high school, and that love still gives you butterflies in your stomach, still gives you heartache and a bitterness, and yet you still ask for it.
When all that effort of defining the unknown breaks down, one may succumb to the "outside-the-box" definition "what do you care what love is, just follow your heart"
I like that definition, simple and hassle free, involving no complicated discussions nor convoluted arguments. Free of the rigorous definition of preciseness and accuracy, devoid of rigidness and spells the essence of the mysterious and ever changing characteristic of love.
I follow my heart, the more I follow, the clearer it becomes, the clearer what Love is becomes:
When I imagine being incapacitated nowadays, I no longer muse deeply on how deeply affected my life would be and how I would attmpt to come up with a plan to counter that. Today when I imagine being incapacitated, I know you willl be there, holding my hands like you did before, and I would have a plan of how to counter incapacitation.
I want to be there, I really do, I want to be there whenever I can, so that I am part of your life
I want to see you, even if it is through a monitor, a picture, a photo. I am delighted to see you.
I want to hold you, even if it is impossible, I want to hold anything that has any sinle hint of your presence, I want to hold it, and smell it, because I miss your smell.
I want to squeeze the rose bear as hard as I can, because when I squeeze so hard, I can feel the solid existence of you
I want to call you once in a while, even if we can only talk for one minute, that one minute means the world to me
I want to chat with you, even when you are distracted looking at something else, I still want to chat with you, I couldn't help but smiling just by seeing you.
I want to knit, I know my mistakes are horrible, but I wished that I would weave together the wounds.
How do I know I love you?
I know that for sure because you are in every picture in my thoughts, you are in every image.
How do I know I love you?
Because even when you are in every picture of every thought of every minute, if you tell me that does not meet your expectations, I will strive harder to meet them.
How do I know know I love you?
I know because I can feel it so strongly from the core of my heart that I love you.
Now readers rest assured, I do not love all of you, but among you lies who know whom I do. Against my usual low profile fashion, today I jump out to say whats in my heart. Readers you may laugh, you may mock, and offer me an afternoon of satire, but, no offense intended, I care only of that one particular.
The sun seems to be peeking out of the clouds. I wish today would seem nice and beautiful.
| | | Posted 12/23/2007 3:13 PM - 14 Views - 0 eProps - 0 comments
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