Maybe I Have Been; Definitely I Am

Crossposted from Eveszine, written for my friends. Read this doc for footnotes.

There is a question that seems to be intertwined with my fate. Not that I actually believe in fate, so metaphorically speaking, I suppose. Like a card I always seem to receive from a magician or a green-coated piece of chocolate that always appears in my hand after taking it out of an M&M’s bag, this question is what I always end up getting asked in interviews, random conversations, or truth-or-dare games. What is this fate-twisted question? Here, I’ll ask you. Have you ever been in love?

Have you ever been in love? Doesn’t that seem so arbitrary (Just to be clear, when I interpret that question, I think of romantic love)? Being the cynical person that I am, I always thought that questions like this never brought much value to the table. What does asking someone if they’ve ever been in love actually give you? Their sob stories? Anecdotes of dates gone wrong? Not to sound mean or anything, but really. I always thought there were better questions to ask, like: “What consumes your brain on a daily basis?” or, “What’s your game plan should a zombie apocalypse happen right now?” To me, questions like these are definitely much better suited for picking someone’s mind and for more interesting conversations. Unfortunately, though, I never seem to escape this question. And I’ve always had the same succinct, mundane answer:

“No, I haven’t actually,” I’d say. And I don’t want to be, I’d silently add. Being in love has never been and never will be a priority of mine. I’ve always believed that love clouds judgment the way oily fingers muddy up eyeglasses. I’ve seen people in love from an outsider’s perspective, and I’ve always seen it lead to irrational decisions or deviations from ambitions and dreams. I’d rather be as rational as possible and mitigate any possibility of treading outside a path that I believe is good for me (unlike Little Red Riding Hood so infamously did) so I try my best to ignore anything that could lead me elsewhere, which I suppose includes love. I’ve always prided myself on not actually having difficulty in this the way people I know normally do. I tend to be indifferent to romance; if I ever were to approach it, it would be in a careful manner. They say INTJs (which is my Myers-Briggs personality type indicator or MBTI) are pretty guarded or logical when it comes to love, and I agree, at least from personal experience. Love would not be something I’d take pretty lightly, so ensuring it’s at the right time combined with all the right factors is important for me. It’s safe to say that I’m hopeless (not hopelessly) in love simply because I do not really hope for love.

Not that I don’t think love is valuable; I believe it is. Love has led to the greatest masterpieces that the world adores. Paintings such as Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss plays including William Shakespeare’s renowned Romeo and Juliet, and classic romance novels like Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice were founded on the theme of love. Songs and movies that strike my soul like Iris from the Goo Goo Dolls or Before Sunrise directed by Richard Linklater are immersed in love. And it’s not just pieces like this; the raunchiest, weirdest, or goriest pieces are also love-themed (yes, I’m thinking of Twilight). I’d like to note that my citing these pieces does not mean I only associate love with literature, music, or film. To be frank, as I look at the world, it almost seems as if love has something to do with everything.

So then, maybe it does.

Perhaps I should be looking at the question “Have you ever been in love” from a different angle this time. Don’t worry, I’m not going to go to the fluffy conclusion that it’s important to be in love with yourself or whatnot (though I do think that is important). Rather, I want to deep-dive more within myself and my experiences that could have something to do with love, so allow me to get a little more philosophical now. How can we properly define love? I’d say that this definition would vary on a case-to-case basis (Merriam-Webster even holds nine definitions to love as a noun), so let’s try to break down its meaning etymologically. Apparently, “love” goes down to the Old High German word luba, which comes from the Latin word lubere meaning “to be pleasing.” It also goes down to the Old English word lēof meaning “dear,” as well as from an Indo-European root shared by Sanskrit lubhyati meaning “desires.”   Not to jump to conclusions or anything, but to quickly go to the root of it all, you can say that love stems from the words pleasing, dear, and desires. If things that are pleasing, dear, or desirable to one mean love, then perhaps I may have come close to it after all.

Maybe I could say that I’m constantly in love. Because when I think of things that are pleasing, I think of my daily cup (or cups) of coffee. I think of the happy trot I make down to my kitchen at 6am to brew hazelnut-flavored coffee. I think of how lovely this brew pairs with steamed walnut milk infused with cinnamon, nutmeg, and coconut sugar. I think of the aroma coffee possesses, wafting out several compounds that instantly energize me and bring upon me a sense of calm. I think of the jitters caffeine brings me, and how I’m willing to deal with it even if it can be mentally and physically disrupting, simply because I love how it makes me feel and stays with me even in my toughest moments (i.e. cramming something the way I am now writing this). 

When I think of things that are dear to me, I think of all the worlds I live in. Sure, I live on Earth, but I also live in Stars Hollow, where I attend weekly town meetings in a dance studio. At the same time, I live in Hogsmeade, where I regularly have warm butterbeer with my friends who also go to Hogwarts. And obviously, I’m simultaneously saving lives as a doctor in Seattle. Apart from these worlds, I also think of the communities I am part of, such as the plant-based foodie community I enjoy sharing photos of my morning pancakes with; the study and productivity enthusiasts who also enjoy timeboxing, habit-tracking, or using the Pomodoro technique; and the areas of my life that are not academic, like the organizations I am part of or the hobbies I enjoy on the side.

Now, when I think of what I desire, I think of all my ambitions; the dreams that don’t end even when I wake up from the deepest sleep. I think of the world I want to see when I’m 30 years old, and the world I want to leave behind when I pass away. I think of the secret wishes I refuse to say out loud in fear of jinxing them, and the bucket list containing dangerous activities I never admitted to actually wanting to try because I felt too conservative to do so. This list fuels me like a chip on my shoulder, driving me to never stop fanning the flame in my soul.

Reflecting upon this, I’ve come to the realization that if my entire being warms up to the things I mentioned above; that I value things in life and hold them as pleasing, dear, and desirable, then I am in a state of love and romance. I always am. And if I want to live life with purpose and contentment; I need to prioritize it. I need to stop thinking love would deviate me from my dreams, because it may actually be my dreams, or what would fuel them. I need to find more that is pleasing, dear, and desirable about my life and about the world to drive me the way love has driven masterpieces to be made, worlds to be created, and communities to be connected. So the next time fate somehow brings the question I mentioned at the beginning of this essay back to me, and I’m asked once again, “Have you ever been in love?” I will still have a succinct answer, but it will no longer be mundane.

Maybe I have been; definitely, I am.