this little thing called love

Valentine's Day is approaching, and hearts and candy are everywhere. Samy is already angling for a heart shaped sandwich and a singing card in her lunchbox, preferably with Hannah Montana's voice, like the one she saw on TV. For her, the day is all about the party at school, the "ickiness" of having to give cards to the boys in her class ("Why do we have to give cards to everyone? Why not just the people we like?), the unfairness of not being allowed to have candy in class, and what she is going to get.

Oh, the anxiety V'Day provoked when I was dating - will my boyfriend treat it as an important day? What will he get me? What will it mean? And when I was single, V'Day induced almost as much depression as New Year's Eve. It made me feel like I would never "get" love.

Love is a word we use a lot, but what is it? In our culture, it is usually a deep, intense longing for another person. It is that "you complete me" feeling, which implies that you are not, otherwise, complete. It is that searching for a "soul mate," the "one." And it is followed by the inevitable suffering when your projection of the "perfect person" clashes with who he or she really is. We blame love for causing pain, longing and heartache. We look to how our relationships fulfill our needs, and more often than not feel unfulfilled. We think of "unrequited love," or phrases like "love is a battlefield."

The Buddhist concept of love is something very different. Metta, loving-kindness, is the deep desire to make others happy. It is the idea that love exists in itself, not relying on owning or being owned. In metta, you strive to open your heart unconditionally, first towards yourself and then others, encompassing all that is, with acceptance, awareness, and good will. It is loving without though of being loved, giving without though of receiving.

My husband shows the effects of metta. He grew up without many of the comforts -- emotional and material -- that most of us take for granted. His father was in jail for most of my husband's childhood and died when he was 12. His mom battled alcoholism while struggling to raise 5 children on public assistance. Most of my husband's friends did not live to adulthood; they died from either drugs or gang violence. But my husband is the most loving, big-hearted, content person you could meet. He is grateful all the time for the life we lead. If you ask him how he grew up without the anger and scars that such a childhood can leave in its wake, he points to how his siblings and relatives in their apartment building always looked out for him. He'll say that although he didn't have much, he always felt loved. Because so many people around him looked out for his happiness, he grew up with the acceptance, awareness, and good will that metta gives, and creates. So give a little love this Valentine's Day and every day.

Luck, by Langston Hughes
Sometimes a crumb falls
From the tables of joy,
Sometimes a bone
Is flung.
To some people
Love is given,
To others
Only heaven.