Stripped

In this modern age, so many have cultivated relationships out of thin air, literally.  Blogs and comments, emails, and dating websites have given extended life to the childhood imaginary friend.  Sometimes, the extent and depth of the communications create a sense of true knowledge of one another.  Sometimes, additional information verifies or at least confirms such knowledge.  These new-era relationships remind me of penpals.  When I was twelve, I had a penpal in Costa Rica.  I never met him, but we corresponded for two years.  I did not contemplate love at such an age, but I remember crying when his mother died.  I remember sending him books and toys, using money I typically spent on things for myself.  I remember longing for his letters and thinking of things I could do for him.  In the spirit of "loving one another," I believe I did.  Flash forward.

In law, in order to succeed on a cause of action, one must prove each element of that cause of action.  For instance, to succeed in a negligence action, one must prove (1) that the defendant owed a duty to the plaintiff, (2) that the defendant breached such duty, and (3) that the plaintiff suffered injury or damages thereby.  In life, I find myself pondering if love can exist "virtually."  The emotion is familiar but perhaps recast in a light and reality that is new.  In attempting to understand this emotion, I wonder, what are the elements of love?

If I love someone, perhaps I (1) desire to communicate with them honestly and regularly, (2) feel the same way towards them even when they are having a bad day, are angry, are being argumentative, or are not easy to deal with, (3) desire to listen to them without the need to control the conversation, (4) desire for them happiness, even if it has nothing to do with me, (5) am uplifted, encouraged and supported by their presence in my life, (6) desire only to uplift, encourage and support them, (7) miss them when they are out of touch, (8) respect their ideas, thoughts, and plans without feeling the need to change them, (9) will lend my time, my help or more even when it’s inconvenient for me, and (10) desire to have them as a consistent presence in my life always.  I certainly may have failed to list other elements of love, but I believe these things are the foundation of a love relationship.  Notice that "sharing the same interests" is not an element.  I share similar interests with many I do not love, and some I love have little in common with me.  Likewise, physical attraction is not a required element of love.  I love many to whom I am not physically attracted, of course.  These additional characteristics can serve as supporting evidence, though, and can serve to further define the emotion.  For instance, if the 10 elements listed are present and if I also share similar interests with the person and am physically attracted to the person, then perhaps the relationship has a healthy chance of becoming romantic.

Of course, in the world of laws, successful proof of each element of the cause of action is only one facet of the case.  The defendant may have certain defenses that can serve to eliminate liability or limit it.  Based upon my consideration of the evidence, love can exist in this long distance, words-only format.  Does it matter that the geographic distance between the two makes a walk-in-the-park-date a thousand dollar event? Does it matter that the two have never met?  Are these successful defenses to love?

In closing argument, I present that one’s willingness to experience an emotion, with all the risks and benefits that come with it, is a personal choice.  Matters of the heart are not easily analyzed in a vacuum and are not always explained to the satisfaction of those not a party to the action.  The specific defenses of distance and lack of face-to-face time do not eliminate the possibility of love, although they clearly diminish other possibilities.  Absent abuse, neglect, and other clear violations of the relationship covenant, who has a right to question another’s feelings?  Love is patient.  Love is kind.  Love does not envy or boast.  Love is not prideful. Love is honest.  Love is selfless.  Love is.

When I was five, I walked down the aisle, carrying the rings that would signify that my favorite aunt, my most beautiful "girlfriend" and confidant, the one who would steal me away from Sunday school and take me to the store for candy, was no longer "mine." I didn’t stumble but, instead, walked proudly, oblivious to how absent she would become.

When I was nine, I walked into the lawyer’s office and told my dad not to worry, that I would live with mom until I was fourteen, and then I would live with him until I was eighteen. It seemed extremely equitable to me, about four and a half years each.

When I was eleven, I ran away from home. I left at 4:00 in the afternoon, before mom got home, and was found down by the river aroud 10:00 that night. I learned to run away from home in my mind after that.

When I was thirteen, I walked around the block with mom, answering questions she had about decisions which lay before her. I remember telling her to not sign the papers that dad wanted her to sign. I told her she would not see any more child support if she signed them. She signed them anyway. She didn’t get anymore money, but dad spent a few nights in jail several times.

When I was fourteen, I stumbled home at 1:30 in the morning, severely violating my 11:00 curfew. We had recently moved to Fort Lauderdale, and I had gotten high for the first time. I am unsure how I made it home, considering I do not remember anything between the moment two girls undressed me in the front yard of Robby’s house and the moment I got out of the shower and saw a Reader’s Digest on my pillow, opened to an article on marijuana.

When I was fifteen, I stood on my feet for hours on end, washing dishes at Po’ Folks restaurant. I was trying to make money so that I could take my girlfriend to the best restaurant in town - it wasn’t Po’ Folks.

When I was sixteen, I walked on stage in Greenville, South Carolina, playing keyboards for a band I had recently joined. I caught that virus, and I still have it.

When I was eighteen, I walked down the aisle to receive my high school diploma. I felt as though everything worthwhile that I had learned had been taught in places other than school.

When I was nineteen, I walked out of the university, throwing away a scholarship and much more because mom made me live at home and because the band was a hell of a lot more fun.

When I was twenty-one, I walked back into another college in another state. I had a different plan, and I decided to major in classical piano performance.

When I was twenty-three, I decided to marry someone who didn’t appeal to me (almost word-for-word a Bob Dylan lyric).

When I was twenty-nine, I walked around the delivery room holding my first son.

When I was thirty, I walked out of the courtroom, single, happy, and ready to move on.

I have walked in thirty-two states. I walked to and from work for months, waiting until I could afford a car. I ran from the cops more times than I care to admit. I walked before the Supreme Court and raised my right hand to get sworn into the Bar Association. I walked around carrying several more kids. I walked into bedrooms and out of them. I walked into lives and out of them. I walked with God, and I ran with the devil. I danced in the street at 3 in the morning, and I danced at wedding receptions and one funeral. I jumped rope, played hopscotch, kicked ass, kicked footballs, and walked for never-enough-time with my kids. I have walked and ran and strolled and skipped and lumbered through retail jobs and retail shopping excursions, through churches and strip clubs, down dirtroads and Madison Avenue, into courtrooms and into schools. I have walked to the light. I have walked away.

So far, so good. Now, as new days dawn and wisdom falls like scattered, singular flakes of teasing snow, I promise to take better care of you. Most importantly, I promise to direct your steps in a much wiser manner. Feets don’t fail me now.

Sean and Lyn married after dating for 14 months. Lyn was three months pregnant. Their courtship was romantic, full of fun and laughter, and they each truly felt that they, just maybe, had found "the one." Their first sexual encounter occured after six months of dating. Both agree that, physically, they matched as well as in every other way. They left cards in unsuspecting places. Sean wrote poetry for Lyn, and Lyn wrote songs for Sean. They shared similar interests. It had to be love.

Eight years and three more kids later, their marriage is barely recognizable, barely a marriage. Sean lives in an apartment. Lyn lives in the house in the country, still working at being a stay-at-home mom of two boys and two girls. They both say that they still love one another. Sean, however, adds, "Just not in that way." Then, what way?

He says he now knows what love is. He says he knows what he needs in a relationship and what he can give. He says that he and Lyn rushed into marriage because of pregnancy. He says these things because … well, no surprise here: he’s met someone new. He has been seeing Rachel for 18 months. She is five years younger than Lyn. She is 20 pounds lighter (and three kids removed, I remind him). She is more athletic. She loves adventure. She loves him in ways that he didn’t know existed. She can have intelligent conversation. Sexually, she is a dream. He says he wants to spend his life with her. I ask about the kids. He stalls. Every time.

He asks what he should do. I remind him how Lyn was at the beginning. She was 20 pounds lighter. She loved the outdoors. She loved adventure. She was everything he ever wanted. She was intelligent and challenged him like no one ever had. Sexually, they were great together. He wanted to spend his life with her. He says that Rachel is so much more, makes him feel so much different. I say that time will change that, just as it did with Lyn. He says that he does not believe it will, at least as much as that. He says that he loves Rachel more and is more attracted to her in every way than he was when they first met. He says that every day it just grows. I say that what he and Lyn have isn’t growing because he isn’t feeding it. He scoffs. Inside, I know I have no answers he wants to hear.

He loves his kids, he says. I know he did. In fact, I know he still does. I wonder, though… If love is selfless, then maybe this is just one of the ways it is tested. Can he be selfless enough to put Rachel aside, if only for a time. Focus on his kids. Reconnect with Lyn so that, even if they ultimately divorce, they can have a more civil relationship, and the kids will learn better lessons that way. Afterall, Sean and Lyn both agree that they love each other. "In that way" …. heart and soul … head and heart … can it be changed? Do we have any control over it? Or does it have to do with self-control? Or is it character that allows one to honor a commitment? I believe we have so much power within us. What keeps us from using it? I very much understand that marriages, such as Sean’s and Lyn’s, are way too often entered into with little of the thought that should be applied to it. It is so much emotion. Still, absent abuse, neglect, and things of that nature, why is it so easy for us to treat that commitment as being an "until" situation. Until I meet someone new… Until you piss me off one too many times… Until I’ve had enough of your body… Until you get fat… Until I want out… Until it ends…. Seems very unfair to the one who thought it was forever.

"Love your neighbor as you love yourself…. There is no greater love than this, that a person lays down their life for their friends." Suspend, for a moment at least, any predisposition toward or against religion. That’s not what I am talking about. Sure, the quotations above are found in the Bible, but love is found in the religious and the least holy. Love is found between brothers, spouses, and in the harlots and gangbangers. What is it? One thing is certain, it brings with it a suitcase of emotions that springs open at the most inopportune time and scatters its contents across the busy concourse of our lives so that passing strangers can glimpse our hearts and our heartaches as if they were our underwear scattered on the airport floor.

That’s right. I allude to the belief that love is not an emotion. It definitely causes emotion, but love is an act. I may hit you. I may hug you. I may speak to you. I may love you. Each of these things is an act, something that is done. Each of these acts may cause any one of a host of emotions. I can teach someone how to shake hands, how to hug, how to hit, how to ride a bike, and (yes) how to love. No matter how I try, though, I cannot teach them to be happy or sad, or angry, or depressed. I may cause them to feel these things, thereby giving them experience, but emotions are from the heart. Love is from the mind.

What?! You’ve got to be kidding me. Nope. Seriously. Think about it. Many of the things we do we do for self-preservation. We cover up mistakes. We make excuses. We go to the tanning bed. We weasel our way into someone’s bed to fulfill a desire. We buy a new outfit. We look out for ourselves. We do these things because our mind long ago accepted as fact the basic premise that, for lack of a better way to put it, we deserve to be happy. Accepting that as fact, we act (DO things) accordingly. Emotions come and go. No matter what our emotions are, we more often than not still do the things we do in order to look out for number one.

What’s love got to do with it? Easy. Regardless of the emotions we may feel, if we truly are to love someone, we must accept as fact that WE ARE GOING TO LOVE THEM. Period. We must accept with all our mind (and heart) that we will love them. Then, everything we do will flow from that love, will be because of that love. In return, we will begin to learn how to love another as we love ourself. We also will learn how to express the greatest love. No, this doesn’t necessarily require physical death. To lay down your life for another, simply forsake your desires, your selfishness, your time, your money, your words, your kindness… for another. Only then will we begin to know the unexplainable, undeniable beauty of real love.

Oh, well… love thoughts on a loveless day. I am romantic to a fault. I am kind (usually). I can shower someone with attention, flowers, poems, compliments, and so on. I am learning, though, that true love has eluded me for one simple reason: I treated it as an emotion. As a result, it has always come and gone. I resolve to love another this year. The who, the when… later. For now, I recognize that I have been loved more than I ever thought possible. I didn’t even recognize it. I was seeking the emotional combination that would unlock my own little locked heart. If only I had done love, had laid down my life, my insecurities, my selfishenss - even for a moment. I have let people down as much as I have lifted them - maybe more so. In this world of soundbites, Hollywood-style love matches, things and people to lust after all around… the world sees love as a vast landscape of frost-capped sea and icebergs. This landscape is beautiful, but white and gray as far as the eye can see. Love is the needle in the haystack. Love is the red iceberg that shocks the senses, opens the mind, pales the world around it. Pack a good suitcase. The flight’s being called.