The Ancient Greek language has been dead for 2500 years, which is a good thing. With its highly inflective morphology and complex diacritics, it was a bitch of a way to communicate. I know nothing specific about Ancient Greek, except this: There are four words for “love.” Eros (passionate love), Philia (platonic love), Storge (family love), and Agape (charitable or philosophical love, like loving your fellow man).
English, a language of relative imprecision, defines Love as profound affection for another person, with qualifiers or context denoting its specific meaning. In colloquial usage, people use love to express an exuberant feeling for a person, place or thing. The Greeks recognized that love for your mother was different from love for Zeus, or love for your lover, or love for the olives and figs that sustain your existence. We use one word to articulate everything from love for another human that is life-affirming and unquestionably mutual to love for a person, place, or thing that is totally oblivious to your existence and would endure with or without your individual devotion. It is not enough to like or enjoy, and it is weird to adore or relish, so we love everything.
What do I love? I love my family. I love my friends. I love my high school enrichment teacher. I love my spinning instructor. I love the woman who works at Au Bon Pain who giggles after everything she says. I love David Lynch’s movies. I love Wallace Stevens’ poetry. I love Calvin Trillan’s writing. I love Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. I love Carmen McRae’s voice. I love hot tubs. I love when I finish a jog and could do more, but I don’t. I love finding a book in the library that I was going to buy. I love having my hair washed at the salon. I love when long-lost friends find me on MySpace. I love Willem Dafoe, Tom Brady, Tom Waits, Christian Bale, and Richard Dawson (original host of The Family Feud and villain in Schwarzenegger’s The Running Man, where he shouts “Who loves you, and who do you love?” You, Richard Dawson.) I love coffee, cheese, bread, tomatoes, chocolate, mustard, vanilla cake, and cold sparkling water. I love walking fast on a cold, sunny day. I love eating a big meal after a solid day of hiking or skiing. I love cardigans and tight black pants. I love remembering to use my CVS ExtraCare coupons. I love watching skinny bike messengers on skinnier bikes weave through downtown traffic, free as doves. I love when the Walk signal comes on right as I approach, and I can cross the street without pausing. I love the New Hampshire mountains and the New Jersey shore. I love waking up in a tent after a good night’s sleep. I love when I’m in a car and “Slow Ride” comes on the radio.
Love: An empty, imprecise word, over-used when it is not accurate, and underused when it is accurate. What do I really love? I love any person or animal who has brought me durable happiness on purpose. The end.
