From the other side of love
There are probably thousands of songs written about love, and I definitely know hundreds of them, along with all the lyrics.
But John Lennon's "Love" seems to me the most minimalist, raw song ever written on the subject.
He wrote it right after the chaotic breakup of The Beatles, stripping away all the complex production.
The lyrics are beautifully simple:
"Love is real, real is love // Love is feeling, feeling love // Love is touch, touch is love..."
He defines love in its most innocent, exposed, and defenceless form. Instead of a complex game or a legal contract, it is treated as a simple, raw human need.
Yet, he also writes:
"Love is wanting to be loved // Love is needing to be loved."
It highlights a fundamental human dependency.
In Interstellar, Matthew McConaughey's character says, "Love is the one thing we're capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space."
I believe that when we look at the basic survival needs of humans; food, shelter, and clothing; we routinely ignore the emotional imperatives. The only physical thing humans truly cannot survive without is food; even shelter and clothing have primitive alternatives.
But alongside food, the most vital human need is emotionally to love and be loved. Wholeheartedly.
That does not, however, mean unconditionally. Love can never be unconditional.
Because with great love comes respect and value.
It requires respecting the relationship more than immediate personal whims. It means valuing the connection enough to let go of minor wants in order to protect what you really desire.
It sounds ironic and complex, and that is precisely where people fail.
They get caught in a philosophical, fictional trap of thinking everything should be unconditional.
But when there are no conditions, it ceases to be love. It becomes convenience. It becomes a way of satisfying your own ego, convincing yourself that you are noble. It is actually borderline narcissistic.
True love is giving yourself to someone.
Looking into their beautiful eyes and losing your coordinates.
Knowing what it feels like when your heart genuinely skips a beat.
Just lying on the bed, thinking about that person, feeling entirely content and asking, "What else do I need?"
Feeling the blood rush down to your feet the moment they enter the room.
Forgetting the existence of the universe when you touch them.
Traveling through a time machine when a specific song plays.
Getting hurt more by the fact that you hurt them.
Crying your heart out when you miss them, or when they wound you.
Not caring a damn about anyone else in a crowded room because they are in it.
Holding hands tightly in total silence, letting your eyes do the talking.
Sleeping deeply, locked in each other's embrace.
Very rarely in life will you find someone whom you will love in this way. When you find it, please don't screw it up.
But sometimes, love becomes violently unbalanced. When it does, it transforms into a double-edged sword. It will cut you, and it will bleed you, sometimes to an emotional death.
The worst feeling in life is discovering that the person you loved more than anything viewed you merely as an arrangement. An obligation. An option. A tool. A convenience. A temporary totem for their own emotional needs.
It destroys you. Emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually.
It feels worse than actual death, worse than any professional failure, worse than any public insult.
It completely recalibrates the way you look at people, the universe, and whatever you call God.
It forces you to realise how devastatingly rare true love is, despite being our most basic emotional necessity.
Human evolution has survived on this capacity to connect. We even project it onto other species by loving cats, dogs, and cows etc.
But even an animal's love is not unconditional. If you mistreat them, they will leave or attack. But if you respect their basic needs, they will match your loyalty to death and beyond.
Modern spiritual "gurus" love to propagate the myth of "unconditional love."
Historically, this concept was heavily commercialised to cater to directionless, transient crowds who wanted the rewards of connection without the discipline of responsibility.
It is a dangerous interpretation because unconditional love easily mutates into unconditional tolerance. In unhealthy dynamics, people routinely label trauma-bonding and self-sacrifice as "love," when it is actually just fear, dependency, or an inability to walk away.
Sometimes, the phrase "I love you no matter what" simply hides a massive ego. It is a way of feeling morally superior or indispensable; a silent boast of: "Look at how much pain I can endure for you."
In that sense, the illusion of unconditional love is used entirely selfishly.
That's all for today. But this write-up continues. More to come.