(After) Love

"...she loved me more than I loved her, and that consequently I had in some indefinable way won."
-Magus, Chapter 6

Or, as it was put in class: the one who loves the least has the most power in a relationship. To love is to a selfless act, inherently exposing. To be loved is a selfish act, inherently isolating. For any relationship work, especially a romantic one, both are needed. A give and take of love is required to forge the bond.

At first, there is the honeymoon phase. The love is new. It is exciting. One or both people have longed for the touch of another and find validation in sex. The bond is formed of mutual desire and the release of sexual tension. It resonates with the crash of broken barriers and the whispered words, "I love you." The lovers bare themselves and drink deep the heady wine of affection. This is the easy part. Being in love may be stressful at first, but the worries soon fade as the two begin to see themselves as one.

Then, there is a crisis. A turning point. A moment of clarity in which each individual sobers and is distinct once more. Either there is one who loves and one who is loved, or the two share love equally. The former leads to a break or an unhappy couple. The latter I'll term "true love" in that it is reciprocated. To love is to give selflessly, to fill the other's cup expecting nothing in return. If both halves of a couple love, neither goes thirsty. If one drinks without filling, his partner will surely die for lack of substance.

Some of our discussion this week and what I've read in the Magus thus far has touched on the last romantic relationship I was in. Unfortunately, it was the post-crisis case of me loving and her receiving love. I'm not terribly sad that the bond was severed -- these things happen, especially in youth. What broke my heart was how well I thought it was going right before it wasn't.

As Brooke spoke of on Thursday, love is one situation in which one may feel very vulnerable. While we fell in love, we both felt this vulnerability. We admitted our growing attachment to each other. We sighed the promises of love into the hot night air. It wasn't scary. It was exhilarating.

Something changed. The balance tipped, and suddenly I found myself despairing my unrequited love. I was hurt, but I will never regret. To see the fullness in others, this is my love. To slip from control, to feel "the otherness of the other disappear", this is my my love (Magus, Chapter 7). There is strength in surrender. There is growth and pain and joy and freedom and fulfillment. The key is to pick up the pieces of the broken heart that shine and put them back together into a stronger form than it was before. I was hurt, but now I heal.

A song I wrote shortly after the break up:

After Love

Been a long time comin'
The bed was already cold
Rain outside drummin'
Out the breakin' of my soul

Heart still beatin' on
But the rhythm has changed
And what song does it play
after love?

What comes after love?
It'll never be the same
After you marked me, baby
After you took away my pain
After we came together
After we fell apart
After you'd had enough
After love

Will the rivers run dry?
Will you forget my name?
Will the seas turn to sand?
Or will I live another day?

Will the earth quake below?
Will the sun still shine above?
Or will all still remain
after love?

What comes after love?
What of me will remain?
After you marked me, baby
After you took away my pain
After we came together
After we fell apart
After you and me, my dear
After love