In my literary novel, The Estrangement Of The Rain God, 2nd. Edition, the hero makes this statement, “Love is the only truly precious thing we humans have.” Love has singular value because it is the very thing which makes us human. Chimps have 99% percent of our DNA and they fish for termites with twigs. Dolphins are intelligent, bees live in complex social groups and elephants have graveyards. Many creatures mate for life but only humans love.
Like all other creatures on Earth, humans live in physical bodies and those bodies depend on the laws of physics and chemistry. Unlike any other creature on Earth, humans are not physical beings. Humans are spiritual beings: the comprehension of their existence cannot be realized in physicality—humans must have meaning in their lives. Love is the deepest meaning humans know and it is the thing for which all humans quest.
Human culture across the globe celebrates love beyond all other meaning. The search for love, the glory of love, the loss of love, the denial of love—to these we have devoted our best art, literature, sculpture, music, dance, and drama. Love is so mighty in and of itself, and so crucial to human existence, that it is portrayed as having limitless power. Certainly, it feels as if its strength could not be constrained. It is true that love can do wonders and when we are drawn into its stupendous, splendorous spell, we forget that love cannot heal.
Love fills a heart with the deepest meaning possible in human existence. But the human spirit has three dimensions other than love: honor, beauty and truth. Love cannot create these other three spiritual entities. All human spiritual malady involves a lack of love, honor, beauty or truth. All human spiritual ecstasy involves sufficient love, honor, beauty or truth.
The practical result of the inability of love to heal is simple and utterly devastating. You love her truly; your love for her lets your deepest, most delicate, most forceful, most tender, most cherished thoughts and feelings flow out of you and into her life; her love for you amplifies the richness and significance of your life—but if she is broken, your rapturous love cannot fix her.
Humans, and I am the worst offender, refuse to believe this. Lovers deny that their precious feelings cannot conquer all. For it should be true that the golden raiment of love, so tenderly lain upon her by you, would have magical powers but, alas, it does not. When she is all you think about, when her company is all you so desperately seek, it is fitting that the pearled honey of your affection should bind her wounds and seal her fractures—but it cannot.
Love is precious beyond all measure but lovers, hear me well, love is not magical. Love provides the deepest sense of meaning that humans have but it cannot give the other three profound experiences humans require to be whole: honor, beauty and truth.
Little will change in these affairs. These truths I have spoken can only be seen by me when I am not in love. Should I be lucky enough to find love again, I will forget all I know. My love for her will be so powerful that I will want her to be free from all sorrow. I could not love her and want her to have anything but happiness. As she captures my heart, I will lose sight of my truth and I will begin to believe that the joy my love gives her will flood her dark places with light. I will blindly trust that if she is broken, the purity of my heart will restore her. I will be assured that our ecstatic love has sealed our happiness forever. I will blissfully forget that it is not love that puts love asunder.
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