Yellow Submarine #1

Love is a state of being not a state of mind.

It is to me the highest form of being. Showing love and being shown love in return is a fundamental human need. I consider it the highest aim of enlightenment to embody love for all the world and to marvel and be humbled by it. Furthermore, love is the only way to happiness as it imbues life with romance granting you peace and serenity along the way.

Right now is probably a good time to come back to earth a little bit and sort a few things out since most people confuse love with romance and romance with gestures of infatuation. Romance as the word is used most often today, means the sacharine palpatations of the hopelessly enamored. I digress. I am a romantic in the classical sense and it pains me when I see others debase it as the fickle trappings of the over-zealous.

Romance is the nectar of life, not the sticky sap of puppy love. Its not flowers and candy but surreal and spiritual. Its not Venus and Cupid but Coleridge and Byron. Its not champagne and diamond rings meant to augment the fleeting moment but the sharing of the moment itself. Its not relegated to the copulative actions of two lovers, but encompasses Gods and man and beast in nature which endure within the fabric of life. These are the very spirits themselves which reside in the present and make it the past while silently weaving tomorrow from the dreams of poets and lovers and the smallest of children. Love is the perfection of THESE romantics.

The point, the thrust, the moving triumph of love is bred not of passion, but of COMpassion. Love is not in the recitation of verse. Rather it is in the countless daily trivialities which speak of love, so much so that the number of these humble whispers is sufficient to drown a thousand sonnets in their wake. Love is not in the arching of the back and the curling of toes in the throes of carnal indulgence. Love is in the gentle rise and fall of the comforter signalling sleeping love's contentment.

That having been said, when most people look for love they set about looking for what they think is the ideal of a perfect mate who will magically satisfy all of their needs and fulfill them where they are lacking. They are looking for the one person in the world who will compliment them, show them the path to heaven and fuck their brains out on the way there. When you want to find something that badly you usually do because you construct a reality which allows for it. It's cherubs and roses and moonlit walks and champagne and sexy lingerie. This is the problem with 'love' as it is known in the common mind.

Love itself abounds and requires very little; only that you must first love yourself, and then another as yourself. We are emotional islands. Yes, we can build bridges, but we are essentially isolated. If you are not enough wihout another person sharing your life, you will never be enough with anyone. If we look for validation, for escape, for purpose from another person we are dooming ourselves to a life of emptiness and disappointment. The very nature of love compels you to love someone as you love yourself. To do this without practicing self-love is the bitterest malice.

Once we love, we can finally be loved by another. We can give of ourselves to another and make ourselves all that much the greater for it. We can share a life of moments which transcend time itself and thus acheive immortality. This is the very soul of intimacy.

When Rob makes his comment about the lingerie and the white cotton undies, he's basically saying that he's tired of chasing the fantasy of what love is supposed to be, all swooning and preposterous grandeur. He's loved for all of the wrong things for all the wrong reasons before. He finally realizes that he doesn't want or need the enticement and empty thrill of the fantastic, but rather the calming reassurance of everyday love. Love which doesn't need to dress itself up in lace and promises. Love that is simple and comfortable and doesn't make demands. A love that embraces the whole of a person, not just the sum of and difference of their parts.

My step-mom has known great love in the course of her life. Her first husband's name was Charles. They were both accomplished individuals who seemed to be doing quite well on their own, but gave unselfishly of themselves to the other and truly shared a life. One day Charles went into the doctor to check out a pain that just wouldn't go away. It turns out he had cancer and it was inoperable. Charles soon became bed-ridden and she took to his side to look after him. She fed him, bathed him, talked with him, and made him comfortable. Nine months later she was still there when his last thread of resistance wore fatally thin. This is the type of unconditional love everybody is looking for. This kind of love is a committment you choose to live everday.

So when I think about the original question," What things besides wearing cotton underwear would a lover living with you have to learn to live with?" I smile and I chuckle a bit because love IS the white cotton underwear.