Love is the most simple thing in the world. It is also the most complex thing in the world. It defies definition. Maybe that is why I occasionally do posts that try to shed some light on it. So now, with only half a cup of coffee inside me, and with no plan at all as to where this post is going to lead us, I am going to sit at this keyboard, let the crack squirrels run free and see where they take us. Maybe the crack squirrels know something about love that I don’t…
To a poet, love is a challenge. Every great poet in history has attempted to tackle the subject of love. Every combination of words has been used. The poet seeks to describe the indescribable in a way that will move the human soul.
To a writer, love is a tool, perhaps the most versatile and useful tool in his tool box. It is the spine that props a story up, the reason that things happen, the motivation for both good and evil. Love makes people do stuff. My favorite example in literature is that of Sam Gamgee and his love for Frodo Baggins, as they go on the quest to destroy the One Ring in the Lord Of The Rings trilogy. If there was ever a better example of selfless, determined love… that didn’t involve sex… please let me know. I would like to read about it.
To a song writer… and I happen to be a writer of tender love songs, which you would know if you ever clicked on that button up there in my top bar called: My original song videos… love is, to use an inelegant phrase, a powerful weapon. How many great songs have been written about love? We try to capture emotion in music and words. But this leads to some strange situations. It always amuses me when teen pop idols write songs about love. I mean, really, kid, what the hell do you know about love yet? So many of the rock and roll songs from my youth fall into that: oh yeah, baby, I want to give it to you all night long category. And funnier still is the fact that many of these rock and roll bands ended up being famous for their collection of groupies who would pretty much do whatever the boys in the band wanted them to do. The fact of the matter is that many tender love ballads were used as bait to lure in more women, which sort of cheapens the whole idea of both love and the music industry, which I realize is a very cynical way of looking at it, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. And don’t me get me started on the rap/hip hop culture, which used to portray love as something that ‘bitches an hos’ better damn well be willing to provide. Ironically, many of the best songs about love were written and/or performed by people who rarely had lasting relationships. I don’t know if this is a facet of the emotional stability of the artistic type, or a commentary on what fame can do to a person. Okay, the squirrels seem to have gone off on a tangent, but they tend to do that. I’m not sure if it is because of the crack or just because that is they way of squirrels, always rushing off to find the next nut.
To young people, love is a mysterious force that just takes over their lives all of a sudden. They go from the warm, safe, easy love of their parents and their pet hamster to being in the center of a hurricane of swirling emotions and hormones and it all feels like the beginning and end of everything, and you try to tell them that the person who is the light of their life or cause of their deep despair will someday be a vague memory, but do kids ever listen? No, they do not.
To older people, love can still burn fiercely, but it is more often a comfortable thing, like a well-worn pair of soft sneakers.
To scientists and anthropologists, love is mere mixing of chemicals secreted by our brains in order to provide a stimulus to continue the reproduction of the human species. Ironically or not, I bet some of these same scientists and anthropologists have had some pretty steamy romances amongst the test tubes and stacks of old, dusty books.
To a historian… and I pride myself on being an amateur historian, by the way… love is an unceasing backdrop to all of the past of the human race. Wars have been fought over it, if the tale of Helen of Troy is to be believed, and much that is both good and bad has stemmed from the vagaries of the human heart.
To a statistician, a climatologist, a farmer, an ecologist… heck, I guess it would be quicker to say that to all of us now living… love is what makes babies… yes, I realize that is an oversimplification… and that is what causes us to number in the billions and puts strain on our food and air supply and leads to so many other problems.
Love is born, it grows, and it can die. Love is almost a living thing. It is easy to say… and I think I may have said this in another post I did on the subject of love… that love is just a programmed instinct inside all mammals, a natural reaction in our brains that makes us seek others of our kind for warmth and comfort and safety and to continue the onward flow of our genes.
It might not be a perfect system, but I can’t imagine one that works more efficiently… or there wouldn’t be billions of people on this planet, would there?
Okay, there you go. I doubt we learned anything new from this… well, that’s not true, I learned that I am glad to have the crack squirrels back at work after their strike where they tried to get you to read that post about the history of the Mideast they did, and now that I mention that, I think maybe the squirrels are still mad that too few people read that post, and I told them it might be that it was because that post was so long, so now the squirrels are trying to make a point by doing another long post to see if people will read about love faster than they read about history, but that would be a cynical thing to think… I was sort of hoping this post would end up being tender and moving and soulful and a little less rambling, but that ain’t the way the crack squirrels work, because, like love, they are a mystery… and I do love my crack squirrels.
My head would be so empty without them.