For The Way You Look at Me
Today, associates and I spoke and an ever lingering phenomenon, that of which has fascinated the artful artist, the common conman, the astonished adolescent, the salty salesman, the petrified producer, the maddened madman, the bickering barman. Love... along with some Socrates. Apparently, arguments are not for competition nor conflict, but for truth. Although, I'd argue it certainly makes things more interesting, we are competitive creatures, if our search for truth is to be in for competition/conflict, all the more better.
We then discussed of love within our media and it's popularity, one answer was, "Love is a popular theme in art because it is mysterious." Curious to see that love is an ever enclosed mystery, for we can not ever know the other person truly, therefore we can never understand why they left, therefore we can't understand why we are alone on this day, why we're under this tree, where it rains cats and dogs, all year long.
Another idea, "We suffer from dishonesty and mistrust," which is completely fair, I could never trust you, nor you me. I think? Do we now? I've heard of blind faith, I've heard of many things, I have complete faith in somethings where others for various reasons don't, dangling precariously, that is I.
"Love is understanding," is something of which I can constantly ponder. There is one question which I've pondered, what is true understanding? can we reach it? How? In my search for greater understanding I've come to such a conclusion but another question arose, so is there true love? There is no way for us to reach true understanding (yet), true hive minds have yet to exist, and therefore love is not possible (I guess?).
"Why is love a human trait?" Why do we associate love with being human?" Some answers to this question were, "It's one of the first feelings we feel when we're born," and, "It's closely associated with hurt." Sadly, I can't agree with either of these, one of the other "first feelings" would also be agony of being born, or at least that's my theory of why children cry. Also there are many things for which we can associate the feeling of love, giddy, shyness, fear, anxiety, and the like. It's not a good analysis to just pin it to one emotion.
Uh, love is an oddity. If I had to say, I would say that love is to some point universal. As hippie sounding, as only the trillionth person to say so, as only that of which knows close to nothing, as much as it's regurgitated over and over again, as ever childish it seems, as insane it may seem, as unreasonable it may be, as often as that word is used, as odds are to be. It might be right, it might be rightful to say so, rightfully might it be to exclaim. I'd say this, naught one person has not experienced love through one way... or the other. Love is big, it's huge, it gigantic, humongous, enormous. Who cares if it might just be a chemical by the brain to make you feel happy, who cares, why does one love? Who cares as long as you're happy. Why do we do for what we love? Who cares, be giddy. Why are you loving? Who cares, love. Yet have we to break the genetic chemistry, though, til then, I'd say love. If you are to love, even when there is nothing to love, there is love. Paradoxically puzzling, lively but longing, a colorful chaos it is, love is what it is. Love is love. How lovely.
We then discussed of love within our media and it's popularity, one answer was, "Love is a popular theme in art because it is mysterious." Curious to see that love is an ever enclosed mystery, for we can not ever know the other person truly, therefore we can never understand why they left, therefore we can't understand why we are alone on this day, why we're under this tree, where it rains cats and dogs, all year long.
Another idea, "We suffer from dishonesty and mistrust," which is completely fair, I could never trust you, nor you me. I think? Do we now? I've heard of blind faith, I've heard of many things, I have complete faith in somethings where others for various reasons don't, dangling precariously, that is I.
"Love is understanding," is something of which I can constantly ponder. There is one question which I've pondered, what is true understanding? can we reach it? How? In my search for greater understanding I've come to such a conclusion but another question arose, so is there true love? There is no way for us to reach true understanding (yet), true hive minds have yet to exist, and therefore love is not possible (I guess?).
"Why is love a human trait?" Why do we associate love with being human?" Some answers to this question were, "It's one of the first feelings we feel when we're born," and, "It's closely associated with hurt." Sadly, I can't agree with either of these, one of the other "first feelings" would also be agony of being born, or at least that's my theory of why children cry. Also there are many things for which we can associate the feeling of love, giddy, shyness, fear, anxiety, and the like. It's not a good analysis to just pin it to one emotion.
Uh, love is an oddity. If I had to say, I would say that love is to some point universal. As hippie sounding, as only the trillionth person to say so, as only that of which knows close to nothing, as much as it's regurgitated over and over again, as ever childish it seems, as insane it may seem, as unreasonable it may be, as often as that word is used, as odds are to be. It might be right, it might be rightful to say so, rightfully might it be to exclaim. I'd say this, naught one person has not experienced love through one way... or the other. Love is big, it's huge, it gigantic, humongous, enormous. Who cares if it might just be a chemical by the brain to make you feel happy, who cares, why does one love? Who cares as long as you're happy. Why do we do for what we love? Who cares, be giddy. Why are you loving? Who cares, love. Yet have we to break the genetic chemistry, though, til then, I'd say love. If you are to love, even when there is nothing to love, there is love. Paradoxically puzzling, lively but longing, a colorful chaos it is, love is what it is. Love is love. How lovely.
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