How Do You Catch a Cloud and Pin It Down?

You'll know it when you feel it? What kind of new age, sentimental hogwash is that? If you've never been in love, how can you be expected to tell the real deal from just some passing fancy or indigestion? And how can you ever know, with any degree of certainty, that your love is genuine? "Ah," quoth the sages, in all their whimsical sagacity, "but you must only believe! You'll know it when the time comes!"

I never bought into the idea that love is some universal, inherent force just waiting to be discovered by each of us when the planets align and we stumble into blissful romance. Then again, I've never been accused of undue sentimentality. My adolescence, most of which I spent single, was a time of great maturation in many areas, especially in terms of my views on interpersonal relationships of manifold kinds. Being in a romantic relationship for the past 16 months or so has put my deeply cherished opinions to the test, and thus far I have amended my philosophy only slightly. I am pleased to find that what I expected and desired out of love has been granted me.

The attentive reader has no doubt suffered a bout of bewildered head-scratching at this last claim, and justly so. How does one who questions the quantifiability of love assert that he has found it? Though superficially paradoxical, the resolution of this conundrum lies in the proper definition of terms. To settle my roving and restless mind, I needed only to focus on love as a verb, not a noun. Certainly there is love (noun) in the world, but only because individuals consciously and routinely choose to love (verb) one another. Love is a process, an assertive act of the will. It is neither an arbitrary accident nor a biochemical magnetic pull. Love exists at the mercy of a perpetual cost/benefit analysis: does the other's joy pay dividends exceeding my numerous and inevitable sacrifices? Love is also a zero-sum game; nothing is gained except that which is contributed by one or both parties. Love must be cared for a maintained religiously, fed, clothed, and housed with tenderness and vigilance. The least inattention can introduce mildew and festering rot that will prove love's undoing. This process sounds arduous, frightening, and uncertain only because it is.

However, the joys of love are rare fruits that grow on no other vine. Love is uniquely and powerfully edifying, life-giving, beautiful, and warm. The toil and pain are washed away in each simple moment of contentment, from a lazy afternoon spent together to the first brush of a lover's hand. How do I know I've found love? Because the divine, incomparable She decides each day to renew her commitment to me, and I return her commitment in kind. And for this I am blessed beyond measure.