In all of man's wisdom and majestic reasoning there is but one antagonistic to his brilliance and that is love, woman, and the love for a woman.  I'm not sure why such things perplex man, but they are of importance to not only man, but woman as well.  if this were not so then Cosmo would have to review its quizzes titled "what he wants" or shows like sex and the city contemplating and negotiating the difficult, and often irrational, world of relationships and love.  Men in all their accomplishments as males erecting buildings in their name and relegating all gods or spiritual enlighteners can not make sense of the woman and rarely understands love.  I believe that this is so because love is an internal struggle within man and woman is an external struggle to redeem the internal substance of "love."  Love should not be too broadly conceived of as the tickling sensation after or before the first kiss.  No, rather love is a complicated schizophrenia of euphoric pleasure that we crave after the first drop.  Love is the feeling of knowing someone is looking at you possibly with the same tickle and how will you both succumb to the satisfaction of such feelings while making it present to one another?  I find great enjoyment and vivacity in the simple pleasures often taken for granted by those who are appropriately (whatever standard that is) titled "in love."  Those presumed to be in love and married are often the must banal and dispirited people.  That have overdosed and gorwn tolerant to one supplier and such tolerance reveals problems of novelty and sparkle that was once part of such a story years ago, or perhaps even weeks ago.  Is it possible to loom and bask in the tantalizing appeal and fetish of love?  I believe it is possible in the smallest things as well as possible to always find it in one thing.  This some may call the soul mate.  A person so designed and in tune with you that explanation of such coincidence becomes lost in the fantasy spectacle of attributing it to divineness rather than humanness.  In the several billion people in the world how different can you really be form one another until you find someone who shares with you and in you a multitude of things?  But its ore than sharing its an appeal, an appeal of attraction of the physical, spiritual, emotional, psychological, and intellectual.  It’s hard to match completely and so perfectly with another on these ideals, but it happens.  Often they happen briefly and we accept them as they know that this was the moment we shared and that time has expired.  In rare occasions, we figure out how to prolong such engagement so that we can partake in a perpetual and rejuvenated sense of love with someone.  How to do this is not possible to discuss here or anywhere for that matter.  It is only possible to understand that love is a small satisfaction of giving one's self to another.   

We treat love as a grand spectacle and parade it around like something that can be understood in the same manner as an (in)animate object.  It is a sense of being.  It is abstract, but connected to the real.  It is an authentic emotion and a manufactured one driven by the commodity exchange of corporate irrealities like Hallmark.  To make sense of love in the manner that I am referring to is to remove all sense of conditioning and experience one’s self without the centralization of the self in the process.  Simply, participate with someone else in a manner that aggrandizes them and expresses a true love for them as a person who is beautiful and fulfilling in your life.  This maybe misunderstood as some type of liberal erotic philosophical flirtation, but it is not so.  We should find beauty in another and come to understand that that beauty is a mark of our love for that person.

In those we hate we cannot find beauty.  Beauty is a sense of the physical, spiritual, emotional, psychological, and intellectual.  Our societal conditioned selves are attracted to the standard of society and our environment.  So what beauty is pure in the sense of what we see as a true to the self of that person?  That which we cannot see we attempt to feel.  What we feel in emotional, spiritual, psychological, and intellectual extensionism becomes the threshold of seeing the beauty and thus the love.  The beauty is merely the first stage to becoming loving to someone.  Love is the extension of yourself to another in the rejection of want and desire for your “self,” but rather the want, desire, and pleasure of the person to whom your are extending yourself.

What I call extensionism is the connection we feel with others and to varying degrees.  The epitome extension and the quintessential appraisal is our discovery of the person who can perpetually extend themselves to us and we to them.  This is what I think the soul mate is.  Suppose we could use a type of “scope” to see the energy of people.  Suppose even more so that we could see that energy represented in various colors reflecting the attitudes, beliefs, emotional, intellectual, and so on characteristics of a person. If this were a reality we could see that those who are so called soul mates may indeed share a bond, like the atom, in which such energy is constantly in transferal motin for one person to another creating a ring, which is a perpetual never ending cycle, between those people.  Of course, when people get married the ring is supposed to represent a similar type of attribute to the couple relationship characteristic, but do we really understand ourselves and the beauty of others which becomes our love when we keep our eyes open only to the physical and neglect to understand the others? 

Matters of the heart do not exist in the sense that it is of anything remotely attached to the heart.  As an abstract and metaphorical comforting we utilize such expression, but we must understand that our mind has more decree and sovereignty than the physical apparatus of the heart.  Perhaps, because we so fondly refer to our heart in many expressions and sentiments of love and affection because it is the organ that sustains life in the body.  In a romantic sense of the organ it is  an expression of extension that someone becomes an apparatus suited to sustain our being.

I have come to know many people, but not all of them I love.  I have spent hours with people who I do not hate, but I do not love either.  And then I reflect on the moments when I have shared love with another.  Sometimes in passing without any vocalization, but rather a simple gesture of affirmation.  Sitting on a bench chatting with a student and feeling a sense of love in that I am concerned only with the concerns of the student.  Sitting on a couch and feeling the irrespirable moment of uncertainty in wanting to give up myself to know another.  Such conversations are internal desires to extend one’s self to another while losing one’s self to another.  It becomes a euphoria of a purgatory realm of neither nor.  You are neither fully engaged in loving nor completely removed from loving.  It is a realm of negotiation that cannot be understood in logical terms of reasoning but only in the exploration of being and knowing of one’s self in order to give that self to another.

If you wonder how such extensionism takes place it most often occurs in dreams.  Though in dreams it is not always love that is projected but the wanting desire to extend the malignancy of one’s self on to another so that they suffer in the same way.  True to the dialectic of love is the hate or more so anything that is of intention is not of love.  For love in its truest sense connected to the self is a selfless understanding of wanting nothing and desiring only for the other person’s contentment.  When we desire to extend a part of our self that is in struggle, conflict, or most often pain to another person we are not desiring fir that person but succumbing to our own desire to make ourselves feel love.  Can love be such a reflective act or is it meant only as an exchange?

People talk about loving yourself but what does this really mean?  How do we love ourselves if we do not know love with another as reference?  I think when people discuss the notion of loving one’s self it is not true in the literal sense, but implicit of an exploration of the self needed to understand the selfless extension that surpasses the egoistic desire for one’s own want in order to selfless give to another’s want.  Loving one’s self is merely understanding how to love which in turn results in understanding the small moments of love given by others.  It is a process of opening another dimension of seeing by feeling.  As if we could see the world for what it is that is what it means to love yourself.  You embark on a self exploration of understanding in order to understand others who are understanding you, or at least attempting to.

It becomes difficult to understand one’s self and even more difficult to understand another.  The more we try the more perplexed we are in understanding the dimension of a person.  It is hard to accept that man and woman are so uniquely conditioned and “lived” that they are as unique and varied as snow flake, each one representative of a unique life, shape, and experience.  People are in need of love, but more willing to extend hate before love.  The unique beauty of each person reveals that the world is not lost but found every day in individuals with illustrious stories and glimmers in their eyes.  It is in these small exchanges that we come to understand life, love, and beauty as something uniquely connected to our inner being and then a transmittance (or extension) of our self.  Sometimes we sit on park benches watching children play and small and do not realize the love we have for them even though we do not know them.  At other times we sit hopeless searching for something that already exist in hallways because we’re uncertain of what arouses us on the inside.  We ignore that tickling feeling because we have been told it is the danger of life.  The tickle is the treachery of sanity and certainty because it is the unknowing cognitive reflex of energy interacting in an extensionist way of loving. 

So we sit and we sit in silence with thoughts dancing in our heads and sensations running through our body.  This moment is the euphoric hit we long for and become addicted to.  How can we simply state what we feel through emotional action and loving embrace?  Should not such natural awakening be a prompt for action?  We say things like “I know deep in my heart” or “I just felt something,” yet we ignore and watch the moment in which we could have loved drift away.  Such timidity should not interfere with the uncertain chance of acting on the tickling sensation.  We should boldly move and smile to the pretty girl with book, randomly admire a person’s feature, and more often than any tell someone that they are beautiful with our eyes shut.  Such would be love unconditional.  Such unconditional love would be the comfort and serenity that we seek once we close our eyes forever to the world.