 Writing about love
twice in just over a week -- perhaps it's a sign of the times. I'm
learning to spend more time observing people, and sometimes what I'm
discovering is a bit unnerving. I'm more convinced than ever that we're
suffering from a collective madness caused by too much crowding, too
much psychological imprisonment, and too much stress. Love is not meant
to be a coping mechanism for such madness, but often it is pressed into
service for that purpose. The result, I think, is unreasonable
expectations from a single relationship, and unreasonable demands and
pressure on those we presume to love.
What we call 'love' is really a combination of three states:
- a physical and emotional need, based on dependency,
- a physical and emotional want, based on desire, and
- an intellectual and emotional attachment (what we call 'love' in later years), based on respect, gratefulness and admiration.
These
three states can exist together or in isolation, as shown in the
diagram above, and they can be profound or shallow. None is stronger or
more important or nobler than the others, and we can be driven to the
ends of the earth for any of them, even in the absence of the other
two. Most of what we do in life is driven by these three states, for a
reason: Behaviours based on profound needs, wants, and love for others
tend to lead to protection, procreation and survival of the species.
If
you observe or study emotional relationships of wild animals, they tend
to follow the migration path shown in green on the diagram: In infancy,
there is great need, which evolves into love as the animal matures.
Then relationships change from parent-child to peer-to-peer, and become
driven by a combination of love (a learned social emotion) and want (an
instinctive, biological emotion). This is what a mature relationship is
all about: the weaning from need to an independent emotional
relationship. The need in animal societies manifests itself at the community level: Most creatures are profoundly social, and need the companionship of their group or tribe or flock. But they don't need
any individual in that community (that's not to say that they don't
grieve the loss of an individual -- the loss of one we love or want
intensely is as overwhelming as the loss of one we need, perhaps even
more so.
Our emotional relationship with domesticated animals
follows the first part of this natural green migration path, from the
kitten or puppy's need for care, to a need/love relationship, but then
it stalls -- we have bred animal companion species to never grow up and
outgrow their need for us, so that relationship never really matures.
In
modern human society, we've messed up this emotional migration path
thoroughly, so that it looks more like the red path above than the
green one: Our infant dependency is quickly followed by rebellion and
declarations of independence, until at puberty they are supplanted by
peer-to-peer relationships that are almost pure want (adoration, lust,
longing). The painful tumult of adolescence and young adulthood quickly
morphs these relationships into co-dependent ones, where we cocoon
ourselves away from hurts inflicted by those outside. As we grow older,
the intensity of that want for a single person usually diminishes, and
a love based on respect, gratefulness and admiration takes its place.
But the emotional dependency continues, and eventually as we lose our
mental faculties in very old age the need (physical, emotional and
intellectual) increases and becomes not dissimilar to the situation in
which we began life. We never really reach the 'mature' relationship at
the endpoint of the natural (green) migration path, where we love and
want other individuals but do not depend on them.
That is
probably a very jaundiced view of human nature and the nature of our
emotional relationships, but that's what I have, with few exceptions,
observed. The fact that we need
other individuals so much and so relentlessly for so much of our lives
puts incredible strain and demands on such relationships. That is why I
believe that human societies, like those of our cousins the bonobos,
are naturally polyamory, and that monogamous love, while possible and
perhaps even admirable, is unnatural. When couples break up it usually
means (in the absence of abuse or extreme external stress) that one or
both parties have broken the chain of co-dependency -- their want or need for someone else exceeds their love and need for the person they were in an exclusive relationship with.
In
fact many of the enduring relationships of adults I know (and I confess
that, when I look closely, few adult relationships today are enduring
well) seem to be those where the couple love but no longer need or
(really) want each other -- the relationships of our grandparents. You
reach that stage, you're no longer really in the market for new
relationships driven by passionate wants, and you've learned (with
luck) that neediness is debilitating and unbecoming. You still want,
but only in your dreams and fantasies, and don't expect those wants to
be reciprocated. That's modern human maturity, I guess. Better than
nothing, but less than ideal, and less than natural.
Meanwhile, we instinctively share the need of other creatures for the companionship of community, for collective
social activity and belonging. The isolation of individuals in the
nuclear family, in 'single family dwellings', in transient
neighbourhoods that offer none of the qualities of true community,
forces us to sublimate that need and try (in vain) to satisfy it
through individual relationships with friends, lovers, spouses. That
puts an enormous burden on these individual relationships, which is
inversely proportional to the amount of time we have left in our busy
lives to invest in those relationships, and the number of those
relationships: If you've ever been someone's only 'real friend' or had
someone unburden themselves on you suddenly and awkwardly to an extent
not really warranted by how close that person was to you before their
crisis, you know what what I mean.
But we fumble along as best
we can, trying to reconcile the needs, wants and loves that drive us
(and have driven all life on Earth since it began) with the realities,
pressures and scant opportunities of modern civilization. The result is
not pretty, and often ghastly. If we're wise, we learn to laugh about
it, because the only alternative, too often, is to rage or weep. In
love, as in all things, we do what we must. |
6:37:34 AM 
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MADE IN CANADA
trust your
instincts 
