Entwined Together in a Fortunate Accident

“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”

– (Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream)

Is love really blind?

It certainly makes no sense most of the time.

Love goes against reason and logic. When we look back on decisions that involve “love” and ask ourselves “What was I thinking?” we can safely assume we weren’t thinking. Love was simply operating in place of brain cells. It’s like we are blind, but not physically, just mentally and emotionally.

I came across an idea about love the other day seems to capture the essence of real love. Real love. I know, that’s a pretty strong declaration. I’m standing by it.

“Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. No, don’t blush, I am telling you some truths. That is just being “in love”, which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident.” – Louis de Bernieres from “Captain Corelli’s Mandolin”