Two Loves

There’s a love I feel when I’m in nature, contemplating a breathtaking landscape, a river, a tree.

And there’s a love that I feel when someone says something nice about me.

There’s a love I feel when I’m with my children, my parents, or my wife or with a good friend; when I can lose track of time and live without worry crossing my mind.

And there’s a love I’m seeking from others all the time—trying to please them, to see if they accept me or admire me.

The first type comes from the inside.

I look to my external world for the second type.

Are they the same?

When I’m feeling the first, I feel relaxed.

But when I’m looking for the second type, I feel tense and worried.

The first one could last forever if I didn’t lose my connection with the other person or whatever I’m contemplating.

The second one is ephemeral. It only lasts a few seconds or minutes.

Are they both “love”? They feel so different.

The first one feels more natural.

The second type is a created thing, something I made right after I created my persona, my identity. Once I created Dani, I needed something to take care of him. Like a babysitter.

Are these two types of love related? Are they siblings?

Why do people use the same word to define them? It’s confusing.

Yet maybe that’s the problem: I believe the word. I believe that what’s behind the word is the same feeling in both cases. But it’s not.

This is what happens when we translate feelings into words: we get lost in translation, as though we have to translate our feelings.

Regardless, I now know which one is love for me. I know which one I prefer to feel, and I don’t need a word for the other one because it doesn’t really matter.