Sease, David

I have always enjoyed Mel Tormé’s version of the Cole Porter song, “What is This Thing Called Love.” In his version of the song, after a bit of ‘scat singing’, he and a handful of background vocalists ask in close harmonies, what this thing called love is. They then wonder if anyone can solve the mystery of what love is. The rest of the lyrics continue as many jazz standards do, emphasizing the fleeting nature of love and how the lover is left to struggle alone with their feelings once the spark of love in the other person is gone.

The question in this song is a good one! I realize that there are many uses of the word and depending on the context, love can mean different things. People use the word love to describe objects of their enjoyment, like a certain food, activity, or hobby, and it can also be used to describe the feelings involved in a romantic relationship, a familial relationship, a friendship, and countless other situations. I seem to have been asking myself the question “what is this thing called love” for a long time now.

In my younger years, to understand what love was involved a sort of mental and emotional categorization strategy. There were things that I loved, and then there were things that I did not. The things that I loved had some similar characteristics. They might have been attractive, comfortable, enjoyable, easy, fun, and they were things that I preferred. The things that did not warrant the privilege of being “loved” were things that were, difficult, no fun, unattractive, unacceptable, and caused friction or uneasiness in some way. These things, I did not prefer.

I created a mental box, putting those things that I loved inside the box and the things that I did not love outside of the box. The things that I loved had an exclusive privilege that the unloved things were denied. It was the borders of the box, the line separating those things inside and outside of the box, and the distinction between the two categories that helped me define love. In a sense, to love something also required to not love the other thing, because I believed that there needed to be some exclusivity reserved for the “loved”.

This mental construct seemed to make sense. It was pretty easy to put things into categories. There may have been sub categories and in reality, the box may have been a little less rigid than perhaps it may sound, but this mental construct was basically how I experienced love in my life. It seemed completely rational and acceptable that I would spend my life gravitating towards those things that I placed inside the box and denying, running away from, or in some way avoiding those things outside of the box. Why would I ever want to experience or work with something that wasn’t easy to do; something that caused friction or tension; or even be around something that I did not find attractive in some way if I did not have to? It seemed perfectly reasonable to draw a clear, mental and emotional border separating things that I wanted to experience or engage with and things that I did not.

Although this mental and emotional construct was a simple design, there was something about it that was deeply problematic. I often realized that coming along with the things, people, experiences, relationships, and other situations that I put inside the box, were other negative qualities that I could not separate from them. For instance if a person was easy to get along with, attractive, fun, or encouraging, I might give them and the relationship the distinction of being worthy of going inside the box of love. But many times there were some other feelings that accompanied them inside the box. There might be a level of hankering, or a longing to somehow preserve the person in some way, not allowing them or the relationship to change from what I prefer. There might be a yearning to be with that person and a great fear of being separated from them. There might even be a level of greed associated with them and the relationship, where I wanted to keep them and our relationship to myself, not sharing the qualities that I recognized as attractive in them with anyone else. In short, somehow, the way I was defining love involved attachment, and it didn’t always feel good. It was confusing and I couldn’t understand why love hurt sometimes. I felt a little like some of those forlorn jazz singers.

I remember feeling pretty down one day because I was questioning a relationship that I was in. I was talking about it with a Christian acquaintance of mine and I essentially asked her “what is this thing called love?” I was trying to determine how I could be feeling all of these mixtures of emotions in a relationship that I had placed inside the box. She replied with a pretty simple and often quoted scripture from 1 Corinthians, where the Apostle Paul said:

 “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.”

Years later, I now realize that she was correct; that Paul was correct. But, at the time, I considered this scripture within the same mental and emotional framework that I had already created to help me understand the nature of love. So, I looked at the relationship I was in and I estimated that there was boasting, there was rudeness, there was impatience and anger, there were records of rights and wrongs being kept, and there was not always kindness. With that estimation, I figured that the relationship was not love and I began pushing it and the other person outside of the box.

Years later, I started to learn a bit about Buddhism. The books I was reading emphasized the importance of compassion, love, and non-attachment. Though these concepts sounded interesting to me, I was not really able to digest them and to put them into practice. Honestly, some of what I was learning from the books, particularly the way that I understood ‘non-attachment’ and the idea that a Buddha could radiate love to all things with no discrimination seemed scary to me. It was scary because it challenged my very notion of what love was. Were these Buddhists saying that I could not somehow hold a love for my family above the love of a stranger? Did I have to give up discriminating between things worthy of being loved and things that were not worthy of being loved? How would my box look if I tried these things? I was not sure about what those answers would be, but it did seem that to love the way the Buddha did would mean to dismantle my entire mental and emotional construct of how I understood, defined, practiced, and experienced love.

Sometime later, I was fortunate enough to find a teacher who taught me how to meditate and about the Buddhist Precepts. For years, I attended services and meditations at our Temple. I participated in the ceremonies and workdays, asked questions, and contributed to our discussions. Not all these things were easy to do. For example, it was not always fun, natural, or enjoyable to do manual labor at the Temple and some of the ceremonies felt a little strange to me somehow. I did not always feel comfortable and at ease participating in our discussions about the Dharma. I also found that trying to follow the Precepts and to meditate “in real life” was challenging and could be uncomfortable. But, I continued to show up to the Temple and to practice on some level.

Slowly, I began to see that while all of these things were not necessarily easy and comfortable, meditating, trying to follow the Precepts, practicing with our group, and training with a teacher was of real benefit to me. It started to dawn on me that reflecting on and working with my irritations, fears, struggles, insecurities, and preferences might be worth doing. It was strange, but it seemed like I was realizing that some of the things that I had historically placed outside of the box, might be worth looking at, considering, and being dealt with on some level.

I also started noticing a slightly different perspective I was developing on the things that I had historically put inside the box. I began to see that trying to arrange my life in pursuit of things inside the box and avoidance of things outside of the box was a very limited, frustrating, and ultimately impossible way to live. I was learning that what the Buddha taught about impermanence was unavoidable, and that the things inside the box would change and would ultimately be taken away from me. I was starting to see that my attachment to those things inside the box and avoidance of the things outside of the box was causing me to suffer. Although I was not sure that I could love all beings in the way that I had understood that the Buddha and Bodhisattvas could, I realized that I could expand my understanding of what love was and perhaps even change the way I tried to love. I started to realize that the mental construct of my box itself was a barrier for me to actually love and it needed to be re-examined and possibly let go of.

Over the years, I have learned a few ways to actually let go of this construct, and my understanding of love has changed to be more positive, generous, inclusive, and authentic. Rather than trying to chase things inside the box so I can feel or experience love, more and more these days, I try to practice and express love by reminding myself to be generous in thought to myself and others. I am learning that love does not just live inside the box and that to begin dismantling the box, I need to increase kindness, patience, tolerance, humility, and generosity by not actively looking for differences or faults in others (people, animals, things, experiences etc…) and not trying to spend so much time drawing lines of distinction. I try to remember that we are all doing our best on some level, even the person that is outside of the box! I try to consider how it would feel to be on the receiving end of my thoughts, actions, and emotional vibrations. I hope to recognize gratitude in situations rather than shortcomings. I remind myself of a simple phrase of “not different” when I see someone acting in a way that I do not like. I ask myself how I might be of service to a person or in a particular situation. I often remind myself of the Precepts of not speaking against or devaluing others. These things that I am trying to do require action, they require reflection, and they require practice. They are aspects of love as a verb! In doing these things, the box begins to dissolve. Love becomes bigger and more inclusive. It is also amazing to see that when the box begins to dissolve, much of the mental and emotional baggage that might accompany the things I used to try to put inside the box can also dissolve.

Practicing and training with love seems very similar to any kind of practice or training. If I want to train to run a marathon, I am going to have to run further than I am comfortable running. If I want to learn math, I am going to have to encounter and grapple with things that I do not understand and might find frustrating. Loving requires a similar willingness, discipline, and faith to be open to the idea that I may need to do things that I do not want to do and that I may need to experience things that may be difficult. If a person irritates me, and although it may be uncomfortable, I need to try to offer kindness and consider the perspective that that person is no different than I am in wanting to be heard, understood, and loved. Although it may be difficult and contrary to my initial impulse, can I try to not actively search for the differences between that person and myself?

Thinking back to my reaction to hearing the Apostle Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians, I realize that I was defining love as a noun, and that was how I interpreted Paul’s words. For me, love had to BE a static state of being. For there to be love, there had to BE patience, kindness and the rest, and if it was not present, there was not love. I now see love as a verb. If I want to express, feel, and experience love, I need to practice patience, practice kindness, practice generosity and humility. I need to consider my actions, thoughts, and words and how they may affect myself and others. Love as a verb is not a state of being, but rather a constant becoming. After going to countless weddings in my 20s and 30s and hearing this same scripture, I was delighted to learn that when Paul wrote what became these lines in 1 Corinthians, he was not talking to a couple about to get married, but to people who were experiencing deep division among one another; people who needed to practice loving!

It seems to me that to love is to try to follow the Precepts and to really do my best to respond to a situation by doing what is good to do regardless of how attractive, unattractive, easy, difficult, fun, or boring the situation is. It seems like love is a response, offered with generosity, to a situation or a person. Because of the shifting nature of life, I never know exactly what a situation will be, thus I do not know what the response needs to be necessarily. So, although I do not know what will come my way, I do know that if I can cultivate stillness, generosity of spirit, and a wish to do well, I can love everything. There is nothing outside of the box. In fact, there is no box at all!

I have started to recognize some qualities that I associate with the expression of love. Words that come to mind are perseverance, openness, acceptance, faith, humility, and generosity. I am also learning that I do not need to rely on emotions, feelings, ideas, constructs, or categorization strategies to know what this thing called love is, but I do need to practice trying to be willing to see all situations and beings as being lovable.

So, what is this thing called love? I’m not sure if I’m any closer to defining it. I don’t think that I want to because to do so would mean that there is something definite that could be described as love, and it could be limited to that description. In other words, love could be put into a box. It is starting to seem that love is boundless and that our capacity to love is greater than we can imagine or define.