In Roman mythology, Cupid (Latin cupido) is the god of erotic love and beauty. He is also known by another one of his Latin names, Amor (cognate with Kama).
I need a definition of love…yes we’re back to that. Again. I feel like a definition is half the work. If you know it you can avoid it…or find it better. (Pick one people, and run with it!)
I look for it’s meaning in those around me and frankly, I’m disappointed. Is love something you pick up at Maggie’s half-drunk on a Friday night or does it reside in more morally sanitary conditions? Is it something you bump into along Moi Avenue or does it require, like perfection, the gentle touch of time? Is it, per Camus, ‘madness and confusion’ or is that just a gimmick to cover up the fact that we’re all certifiably insane?
Is love a colour? Red? Do we paint it on and wear it, and own it? Can love be summed up in words or in a gaze or in a touch, or a kiss? Does love obey Newton’s laws or is it on a downward trajectory, bound for the inevitable crash?
Where does love lie? In the heart or in the head? And how long is this journey from the cerebrum to the cardiac cavity? Is love the truth or is it the greatest story ever sold?
Who gets the girl? Is it the quiet intelligence or Mr. Popularity? And who gets the guy? Saintly Mary or not-so-sweet Sue? The mating rites at Campus make T.V an unnecessary and expensive hassle. Fertile ground for as impressionable a mind as mine.
Some opt for the consumerist approach…they buy it. Lunch, clothes, weaves…the whole enchilada. No romance without finance. I can understand this, I suppose, in an offer-limited-while-stocks-last kind of world. To each his own, right? Besides, you have to give some to get some.
There are those who try to hide from it. In library basements and behind computer screens. Those who fear inadequacy and hurt. But what’s worse? A broken heart that can mend or one fully intact and empty? It’s terribly easy for me to condescend from the spectator bench…or my usual high horse.
And those who think they have it; illusion, smoke and haze. Heedless that love is mortal, susceptible to death.
Others prefer to wait for it. Others like myself. Does it come by ship or rail I wonder? Like some import of some strange and enchanted foreign land? Or an arrow through the heart?
Where is the indisputable proof of its existence in a world where weapons of mass destruction exist; proof that there’s no love lost. Where is its assurance in an Akinyi-chinedu world? Or is it that thing evidenced by a ring, consummated by cake.
Is love its own reward or does it demand something in kind? Is it something tangible or are we damned to blind groping in a candless room? Is love the good ache…is there even such a thing?
‘It’s about finding someone who you can tolerate better than the others and giving until it hurts,’ my friend tells me. He’s male so by dint of this very fact his emotional intelligence was neutered on arrival. I had hoped for something a little less clinical. Why if Troilus had displayed such vague sentiment to Cressida, romanticism would be beggarly for it!
I’m not looking for those cheesy Hollywood one-liners about seeing forever in his eyes. Just a truth that can be endured. Yet is it a contradiction in terms to wish love were something taller than 5’8, had something more than a grudging acquaintance with Shakespeare? Can love be chivalrous and funny or is that too much to ask of this hustler-thug generation? Will love be the father of my children?
Is love what comes after loneliness or is it the other way round…and is it complete lunacy to ask for assurance in this world of clay where everything breaks and nothing lasts…even hearts, even love. Or is it an ideal, something we can only aspire to…
never possess?
I need a definition of love so that I can know it isn’t this insubstantiality of media-hyped emotion. That it isn’t a third wheel to a meeting of drink and mutual willingness. To know that there’s more…there has to be. And to know that it didn’t pass me by.
June 10, 2009 at 8:38 am
Nice one Binti,
I am a hopeless romantic, a selfless giver of love, but gal, has it eluded me? But still I rise!! I think not many people are capable of loving, too many hustlers and you wonder at what point or what made them loose the ability to love?
I still am looking for someone capable of sharing the love in every sense of the word..but please let it come with a basket of honesty, decency and all that is considered good manners!
June 12, 2009 at 9:55 am
Aren’t we all, luv? Hopeless romantics I mean. No one ever loses the ability to love, I think. Love is like breathing, who ever forgot to breathe? But one can hold his breath for long enough…too long and one dies.
Thanks for the comment, Maya. I needed it.
September 11, 2009 at 7:30 pm
Hi, could you tell me where you got the image of Cupid you used in your post here? I’m using it in an ad I’m designing and need to find out what the usage rights are.
Thanks, Bill
October 16, 2009 at 1:35 pm
Hi, Bill. Sorry for not getting back to you sooner. I got it from myspace would you believe it. It was pretty eye-catching. That could possibly mean that you have good taste.That’s the whole story, unfortunately. Good luck with the ad and am I risking prison time telling you this?
October 18, 2009 at 1:40 pm
love is nothing and everything at the same time, its so empty that its full, love needs no answers, id say stop thinking about it and just live…
samyjay x
October 28, 2009 at 3:10 pm
“Wise words, but when wisdom brings no profit to be wise is to suffer, ” – Tiresias, the blind prophet in OEDIPUS