This week marked my parent's third decade of marriage (woot woot), so it got me thinking a little bit about love. And so I must begin with the disclaimer that I don't know hardly a single thing about love and therefore the following, though possibly stated as facts, are merely the opinions of a single, musically-minded twentysomething.
I've overheard enough mother-to-daughter pre-pre-marital counseling to fill our town's library, and one persistent soapbox upon which my mom likes to stand is our culture's confusing love with feelings. You know what I mean: people treating love as if it were like raised to an arbitrary exponent.
I was thinking about that phrase 'in love' versus just the word 'love'. We usually say we're 'in love' when we feel something fluttery in the abdominal area. In love ... it sounds so spacial, doesn't it? Like you're in a faraway city called Love. And that's really exactly what it's like, and that's exactly why it's so popular. 'In love' is an escape, and like all escapes, 'in love' is inherently selfish. Not completely, but when contrasted against 'love', 'in love' is mostly about chasing the flutter, about doing what makes one feel giddy.
Not that there's anything wrong with being in love. And not that 'love' and 'in love' are mutually exclusive. But let's not make any big life decisions (read: marriage) based on the movings-about of internal insects (read: butterflies).