The anxiety is easy to trace. Children have to be loved or they die. To survive, children make themselves believe hypocritical protestations of love, if real love isn't available. The dilemma is real: The false belief is humiliating. On the other hand, realizing the truth of his or her unloved, unwanted fate, a child would become like the institutionalized toddlers in wartime, in a clean environment of plenty, withering and dying for lack of human nurture.

The anguished, deluded childhood belief in love, necessary for emotional survival, becomes a cultural archetype. In adult relationships, actions that contradict the cherished belief that one is loved are commonly ignored. We gloss over lying, cheating, abuse, and chronic absence or indifference--all to hear, and savor, "I love you."

We're gravely concerned that it's so easy to value words over actions. We start to worry about "falling for the line," and soon the worry pervades the whole culture. There's no trust left.

"I love you."

Is it real?

Are there strings attached?

In fact, the words are a bright coin. We have it in us to determine its worth. We can take it entirely on its merits.

If "I love you" is "real," tendered in self-knowledge and caring, it can assure us. We can get used to its weight and its brightness in our pocket. We do not think about whether we're worthy or can repay the debt. Of course we are. Of course we will.

If we're thrown a bright plastic "I love you" that's not genuine, we can keep it and enjoy it until its sparkle wears off or it gets lost.

If we are asked to part with our souls for a bright plastic coin, we can pocket the trinket and refuse the obligation. There are skilled ways of doing this.

The coins are bright. They make a noise when we walk. They can be hefted intelligently. We'll spend them, just as inevitably as we receive them.

They can be collected, without fear or shame.
1:07:59 PM    comment []