To love someone is to set them free

There are many times when we discover ourselves in another’s gaze. It happens when we come across someone who seems to know us better than we know ourselves. Someone who thinks we can achieve something, even though we believe it is impossible. But then it turns out that we can.

Someone who expected more from us and, in so expecting, became the motivation for us to become better than we thought we could be. Someone who wants to hear what we have to say and, in doing so, shows us that we do indeed have something to say.

Or the discovery could be the experience of a leap of faith, a step into the unknown, a vague part of ourself that we want to explore. This murky swamp becomes sure ground because of the smile, the kind words or the participation of another. We might feel like we want to dance or sing or paint, but we are not sure. Then, we risk it and someone loves it, enjoys us in that way and suddenly we have found a part of ourself that we were never confident existed.

It may still be fragile, may still require more care and attention, but at least we now know it is there. We have discovered new land. There are now more possibilities and we are freer than we were. Our world has expanded.

The recipient of this love experiences it as a miracle. Something new is introduced. I could not have imagined becoming what I am now. However, the lover sees it more as a drawing out of what is already there. How does this happen?

Someone who loves something seems to see it more clearly. A loving look illumines more in the object than any other type of look. One sees this in numerous circumstances. An author has seen something in such a way that he or she has been able to communicate it well. An artist has captured the essence of something so that we could see it as well through their art.

A sportsperson has understood the possibilities of the game in light of its aim and so played properly. They responded in some way to their circumstances as they perceived them, and the way they perceived them turned out to be correct. The Good Samaritan, for example, sees a person in need of help and realises that he is in a position to supply that help and does so.

This suggests that they have understood the subject to which they are reacting or responding. Usually, this understanding is not a fluke. It comes from paying close attention to the object, possibly from extended training or education in the object. The purpose of this attentiveness or training is to understand the object better; that is, to see it how it is, separated from all prejudices, biases or projections of the spectator. To frame it properly one needs to respond to it accurately, rather than how one imagines or wishes it to be.

It is this truthful attention that generates the security. The lover does not put the beloved in danger. The lover only suggests possibilities that are really there; otherwise, what one is loving is a fiction. Without the proper focus, one would be guessing as to the nature of the object. Love however motivates such attention.

Josef Pieper in his monograph on love makes the point that love is much like approval. He ends up with the concept of love as a ‘letting be’. This sounds passive and indeed it can be, and, more often than not, will probably seem that way to the lover. But to the beloved this ‘letting be’ can often seem active. It is the lover who clears away the space into which one can grow.

For example, it is the lover who can dismiss false objections one might have, who can reinterpret past negative experiences in a new positive way. Moreover, as previously mentioned, for the beloved it is the approval that seems to guarantee this new reality. The approval is the foundation. But for that smile or kind word, this new land would have sunk back into the abyss.