about the relations, about marriage, about a family, about sex. About the one who to whom as how many in the relations has to. About apartments, cars, joint personal and real estate to which have the right. Make a claim, wait, demand, leave and come back. Destroy the old relations and begin to build new. Only I do not understand why they call all this the word “love“?“ Approximately one famous and already elderly actress when she was asked that there is a love so reacted and whether we are able to love.
A it is valid, the true love is or there is only what it is accepted to call love? What there is a love? What it is? Whether there was it earlier and whether became it now? What it became?
“Love was and whether there is it? “
In the country, “in which“, years to eleven still believed that children were brought by a stork or they were found in cabbage, and it was accepted to fall in love years with sixteen, not earlier. Romanticism was not alien to the generation of the eightieth which grew on the volumes of romantics A. Dumas and D. London read to holes and most, let also in the conditions of the futures of Reorganization and market economy: the first shy kiss, walks under the moon, “reddening a suffocating wave, having slightly adjoined sleeves“, the awkward, but sincere verses for darling written at sleepless night - ah, unless approximately our first clumsy, but very serious love then not so looked?
I remember, I was not even able to think of object of the first lamentations and the reason of sleepless nights, Lenochka S., differently as to pure and inaccessible Juliette or Laura whom I was afraid to offend by the sensual rushes even in thoughts. We wrote each other romantic letters though lived in two quarters from each other and every day saw each other at school, recited verses of darling of both Byron. I took her home every day, under snickers of my schoolmates, and for a long time was afraid to touch her not to offend it, “a timid fallow deer“. Everything was really innocent and very serious.
And Platonic rushes, apparently, are so alien to present generations of the practical beginnings and the broadband Internet of the romantic as far as for us sex on the first appointment (at them, apparently, was alien and the very first sex does not cause that storm of feelings which was caused in us by the first kiss). Our children learning about love between the man and the woman not on “The first love“ of Turgenev or “Wuthering Heights“ of Bronte, and according to obscene pictures on the Internet and to cynical, barefaced cinema where women hunt for men successfully to marry, and men sleep with women because their samtsovost and where the first and second seldom really love so orders and respect each other if they reach hardly the first feeling, know everything about the relations and physiology of each other - not less gynecologist and the sexologist combined, and from consumer positions. And the knowledge this in itself would be useful if did not fall down the weak heads so early, was not so cynical and bared, did not kill that romantic feeling, bringing to the foreground an animal instinct and the consumer relation to each other.
But even against this “broadband“ horror and our children try to love as they are able. Let and not Byron with Pushkin are quoted aloud, and exchange links on “Twilight“ and do not hurry to marry after first “contact“, and their feelings in compliance with our consumer century are formatted, digitized and is market are structured, but also they have something there, in pragmatic heart arises, storms and, dying, gets the archived file to their folder on modern passionless computer soul.
“That the love is, and the true love is or there is only what it is accepted to call love?“
What is love? It seems to me that true love - simply not when you tell “give me, I want“ and when you speak “on, it to you, you so want“. When you do not demand, and you accept as is when you forgive, but you do not nurse a grievance when you love not for merits and honors, and for the fact that he or she simply is near somewhere and only breathes with you one air. As beauty - in the opinion of looking, but not in object at which you look and love arises, first of all, from your big heart, and you its reason, and at all not because someone is beautiful, rich and amuse your vanity with the presence near you. When and in wealth - but also in poverty, and in health - but also in diseases, and so far death does not separate...
Whether there is a love today? The majority, of course, will be indignant and will tell what is, will give the example - and who will sincerely doubt that its relation and is not that love as the proof? Only how many in such relations of the habit which is just knurled for years which it is difficult to refuse? How many that, jammed to holes relations, in which love - “marriage, sex, personal and real estate“? Children who connect are obliged, that “that as at people“ and “before people inconveniently“, the taken mortgages on housing and not paid credits for the car, free sex and fresh linen, the any father for children and material security? Just what the society took and told: “It is necessary, Fedya, it is necessary“ and to disobey - oh as it is difficult.
It seems, it is quite obvious to most of those to whom not sixteen that the huge and divine feeling under the name “love“ sung not only in 19 - the m a century romantics Pushkin and Byron, but still quite recently, in the middle of the century 20 - go, saw better days a little, lost the sacral meaning and became just designation of all relations between the man and the woman. Civil marriage = “well, type and as if“ love. The marriage registered by the state = “well, of course!“ love. A family = “and you still doubt?!“ love. Any relations between the man and woman = usual love.
But there are too much impurity at this love, obligatory and integral attributes without which it loses the dazzling gloss. Too she is buried and chokes under all the fact that she yes, is related to marriage, a family, the relations, but has to the feeling a little (love - do not forget, all this is feeling, but not the market relationship which build up and where the offer satisfies demand, not mathematical and mechanical frictions - at it once were wings).
Once one of authors Shkolazhizni. ru wrote here that in her life, - long ago, a certain young man who brought every morning it a bouquet of flowers was davny. You represent, day after day, week after a week, maybe, month after month, just every morning the guy gave flowers to the Laura, told some awkward words and demanded nothing in exchange. Whether such relations are clear to us now, or we will tell that that young man was a fool or is extremely inventive and knew how to win the woman? And even if so whether we are capable of such love? Whether we are capable of love?