Mankind is quick to proclaim love then inflate it in an attempt to cause the recipient of said love to believe that this love is different from all others. Both males and females are guilty of doing this. Our infatuation with the thought of another person becoming vulnerable to our emotion is a great boost to our ego.
We consider the
immediate present, cast the moment across time and create a blanket of here and
now into eternity. “My big love,
dissimilar from anything you have ever experienced, will last forever. You can
count on it when you can count on nothing else.” This statement, we hope,
will elicit a trust to rival that of mother and newborn child. In our minds, it
is true; albeit tied to this precise and particular moment. And, yes, there are
times when we can stretch and lengthen that minute into times – equaling to
hours, days and even years.
We move from this span of time to the next thriving and surviving off of our grandiose infatuation. Can it really be called love until it is tested? Is it possible to love someone without questioning motives and intentions in an attempt to know them in a way that no one else does? Is love birthed or does it evolve? Is it one thing, and then go through a metamorphosis to become real love? Metamorphosis is a profound change from one stage to the next.