Thermodynamics of Love

As with Energy, I believe that Love cannot be created or destroyed but transformed from one form to another. This form is not necessarily a person or "one person today, another tomorrow". It goes beyond that. Various types of forms could be adolescence, attraction (physical and mental), dependency, genetic bond, mutual likes and dislikes, and in extreme cases like the Stockholm syndrome, capture-bonding. There could be many more forms here. To each his own.

The reason why I wrote this post stems from varied thoughts I keep having on and off. A few of them include the “stability holds a marriage together more than love” idea from Love in the Time of Cholera, the usual debates about “can love be really selfless? Does selfless love exist?” and the very recent watching of Gatsby, specially the part where they meet after 5 long years and the awkwardness that pervades before the dam breaks.

Love does transform into a lot of feelings eventually - companionship, respect, adulation, habit, friendship, physical bonding, wavelength congruency, adaptability, understanding, and many more. Probably the same feelings that combine in some way or other to create love are eventually isolated. Is that how love evolves?

What probably matters then is how we handle it. Do we acknowledge that love has transformed? Just like the Horcruxes, love is distributed in parts that make up the whole. (What a terrible analogy though!) Or is the loss lamented?

“It is not like it was before.” “Things have changed.”

So have times, so has the world around. The immediate world and the extended world.

Love evolves to survive. Eventually when some of the life-tasks are check marked, there would be moments when the parts come together again to become a whole. And when it does, probably the sum would be greater than the parts.

Till then, is it wise to sustain love’s various forms? Wait till the string of hope ties it’s several forms together again? The glue of faith to bind it together? The togetherness over a timeline cement this form?

Or are these just words and ideas?
-
"Does love really exist?"
"The answer is circumstantial."

Just tripping

"A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover."
— (The People Look Like Flowers At Last: New Poems)

"The shortest distance between two points is often unbearable."

"It was like the beginning of life and laughter. It was the real meaning of the sun"
— (Factotum)

"...in that drunken place
you would
like to hand your heart to her
and say
touch it
but then
give it back."
— (The People Look Like Flowers At Last: New Poems)

"Some lose all mind and become soul,insane.
some lose all soul and become mind, intellectual.
some lose both and become accepted"

All quotes by the genius Charles Bukowski.

Words for things incomplete

A whole lot of text must have been written or is written, to describe or dedicate to the love that could have been, the feelings that could have been extended, the dreams that could have been livelier.

Things are so esoteric that they make sense to the person who knows that the lines are just written for him or her. For others, it is just another romantic poem or a sad verse. Mostly, a sad verse.

There would always be the urge in people who wish to convey their feelings to the one's they miss a lot. They would always find interpretations, comparisons from the nature around. Be it monsoon, lovely alleys, coffee shops, memories of midnight, that familiar sound of laughter, songs, movies, books... Oh that is almost everything under the blue sky! It is very true though.

But the objective of this literature, if it can be called an objective as such, is a reaction from someone, somewhere... who do you want that someone to be?

About Love

This piece is really touching -

"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two."

By Louis de Bernières, Captain Corelli's Mandolin.

Might... Maybe and Not!

The hardest thing in life is letting go of what you thought was real. -Unknown

But then, how do you define reality? Perception? Illusion? Even though perceptions can make you sad and illusions can make you happy or vice versa. Till yesterday the castle of feelings was strong. Today it has become a castle made of cards. The winds of time and the winds of change just pushed the cards and scatter them into memories.

But then does that stop us from standing at the cliff to jump into water? To feel the exhilaration for the time before you hit the water? Then the plunge into cold water that freezes the adrenalin in an ecstatic way? I am ready to unleash myself. Why? Just because the madness is peaceful, just because I don't want to inhibit myself. I am crossing the thin line from rationality to the little known place. The place where clarity speaks for itself. Where numbness is the surreal music that plays and where darkness is the light that shines and makes every feeling shine like reality.

But then, why all this stupid garbage talk? Why? Why can't I run away to you? Why can't I shake you up and tell you don't let go of our feelings, don't let go of the connection that we have. Don't say its past and you don't know where to go from here. Bury me away, but don't replace what we built. Keep me alive as I have cherished you. Every day, every moment. The senses... the perceptions... and the feelings... nothing can take it away. Let a snake charmer come, charm you away... but remember the concoction of our poisons... you know, as much or more than I know... nothing can take that away. No one can take that away.

But then was it real? Yes. Was it just an escape? No. It was something pure and true... in its simplest form. Why did it not last? Maybe it was not supposed to. Something as precious... got rusted. Who is to blame? Circumstances? No. Where do we go from here? Our own trails. What if our paths cross again? Haha... Hope you at least try to melt a stone that I might become then! Might... Maybe and Not!

Describing Love...

How would you describe Love?

WYSIWYG - What You See Is What You Get
Or
WYSIWYN - What You See Is What You Need

Wonder what made me think of this!