“Mum, I know it’s quick. But when you know, you know.”
I was so sure of my man in
that moment years ago, so in love and happy that I didn’t notice whether or not
my mother shared my confidence. Like a smug
Dalai Lama speaking to the uninitiated, I looked over the beach to a fierce and
crashing ocean and smiled, cocky and carefree.
I was floating above the earth... at one with the elements... blind and
deaf to any possibility of disappointment.
That’s how it is with
love.
When you’re in love everything
around you is rose-coloured. You walk
with a spring in your step and a sparkle in your eye. You feel
loved, you feel alive, special and
appreciated. And it is utterly intoxicating
and absorbing.
As he sees your beauty, so
you see his. As he values you, so you
value yourself, and value him; your mutual stock rising with each endearment
and promise of a happy future. You may think he’s perfect, or you may know
he’s not, but you feel everything about him is wonderful anyway – everything is
right for you. And not for a minute do
you question: how could you when it feels so damn good. You relish and treasure every element of
being together, of being close, of sharing the world which is now more
beautiful and irresistible than ever. And that’s how it should be; how the elixir of
love is designed.
Even allowing for the
infamous potion or magic spell element of romantic love, I have always thought
‘falling in love’ was the wrong expression.
It seems to me more like ‘floating in love’ or ‘wrapped in love’. Yet I suppose whoever invented the phrase
meant ‘falling out of your senses’... or ‘falling into each other’. For certainly the experience of falling in
love is a process in which you lose yourself... where, for a while, you aren’t
sure where you end and he begins. You
become fused emotionally, mentally and physically.
I suppose this fusion is
not unlike the closeness between a child and parent. I remember from undergrad studies there is a
stage in Development Psychology when a child actually needs to learn that they
are their own being, separate from the people around them who respond to their
every need. It’s the stage when a young child
will throw a toy or food repeatedly, watching to see if you are going to return
it to them. They are exploring that
sense of connectedness and separateness for the first time, and trying
to work out the difference. And, though
necessary, the journey to shape one’s ego can be frightening. By returning the ball (et al) you are showing
a child they are safe and cared for... while still allowing them to experiment
with their own will and independent sense of self.
The same transition seems
to take place for couples, after an initial period of ‘falling in love’ in
which you can’t bear to be apart and hunger for one-another no differently than
a toddler longs to be nurtured. It’s a basic
and ancient urge, a prime-evil response to sexual-romantic stimulus. It is disarming and hypnotic. And ultimately, the experience of
overwhelming romantic love is a splendid and explosive mix of satisfaction and delight...
but it’s not without its risks.
So what happens after
this immersive period of mutual obsession? It can’t all be a bed of roses or there wouldn’t
be so many sad love songs documenting pain and disappointment.
How does one navigate the
divide from total in-love fusion to acceptable separateness? This, counsellors will tell you, is the
tricky time. How do consenting adult couples bring that
love, and the best of its intensity, into a relationship which is more
balanced, which allows independence and togetherness, without losing the closeness
or security we all want? How do we move
from ‘the illusion of love’ to ‘the real thing’? And how do we know when we’ve done it?
I guess we know because we
have stayed together. If the reasons for
your instinctive, in-love, trust proves in practise to be well founded, you will
feel affirmed and confident. If the character
features you think you love about one-another turn out to be realistic (more or
less) and (just as important ) satisfying and comfortable over a longer period,
then you’ll be moving across good terrain.
If you learn to let go a little only to gain more when you are reunited
because you have more from the world to share, to feed you, then you’ll be
embarking on something healthy and sustainable.
If you can say “I love you”
without needing each other every minute of the day, but are also ready to ‘step
up’ and support and forgive each other when talk of love needs to be replaced
by generous deed and action, then your “I love you-s” will ring true and you
will know you are building on good foundation.
Of course none of those
transitions happen overnight. The exhilarating
phase of rose-coloured glasses, where love is filled with stolen moments and an
unending lust for intimacy, may go on for an extended period. It’s gorgeous when it does. Or it may be quite brief. The tide of life may be so gentle for months
that you aren’t actually challenged to ‘test’ or ‘review’ your wonderfully smug
feelings of love and sensuality. Or tough
things may come at you quickly and you’ll learn a lot from how you each mount
those hurdles, singly and collectively. And it’s the context in which you find
yourselves that ultimately shapes the speed and timing of this transition. But nothing is surer than that a transition
will come.
In the best case, ‘the
illusion of love’ becomes something even more special – because it can be treasured
with a more objective and conscious realisation that what you share is precious
and worth protecting. This love is more mature - the type of love you can build a partnership on, maybe a life. If you dare to be passionate and spontaneous
it may also be intense and thrilling. In
fact if the timing for each of you is good, your personal readiness strong, you may make the transition with great harmony and little consciousness
of the shift. That’s how we’d all like
it to be.
However if you get stuck
in the first flush of love and do not move forward... if you find yourself
floundering like a beached whale with ‘the illusion of love’ the only thing
keeping the wheels turning... you may well get ship-wrecked... one or the other
of you abandoning ship for a safer harbour or perhaps escape for escape
sake. And then you have to ask yourself:
Did I really know him? Did he really
know me? Did we value what was really
important or were we kidding ourselves?
There’s nothing wrong, per say, in those truths, however disappointing
the answers may be; providing you weren’t dishonest with each other.
But there’s the other
thing: people have different capacities for honesty, just as they have
different capacities for love. So a love
match, a successful match, is ultimately not only about feeling or attachment...
it’s about a balance between two people’s ability to be honest with themselves,
as well as their partner, and the capacity they have for active, generous and
unselfish love. Not unselfish all day
every day, of course, but still necessary for successful coupling is courage and a preparedness to give for the other person’s benefit even if it isn’t
particularly convenient. For a big
difference between ‘real love’ and ‘the illusion of love’ is that it isn’t just
about you.
And until you hit the rocks
and hurdles of life, or overcome them to sail off into the sunset (as it
were)... it will be well-nigh impossible to tell the difference between one type
of love and the other.
That is the risk of
love. And, when you’re lucky, the
reward.
