The Shape Of Love


All love starts out unconditional, then decays through stages to end in transactional, or simply evaporate.

Infatuation is a sort of unconditional love. One party loves the other, who starts out clueless.

Parents unconditionally love their children (at least until the Terrible Twos or Teens, depending ;-)

Infants unconditionally love their parents; right up to the same points.

Then things transition to Conditional Love.

IFF You REALLY loved me, you would…

Yes I love you, BUT…

You would let me date them… or: but do your homework then…

A guy gets the Hots for a girl who has the Hots for him. Neither is counting coup. A few years later, she is unhappy that he only Rubbed Her Up for three minutes while she Licked His Balls for four. The Transactional Stage has begun.

The degenerate, or end stage, is just love as an item of commerce. Prostitution.

I’m not against it. Sex for money is no worse than Faux love for money. More honest in many ways. But how do you get there?

We all start out alone in a stange new world. Our parents are expected to love us as their own flesh. This works for a while, until the parent realizes this is not Mini Me, but a unique person.. and we realize these “providers” come with Rule Making attached.

Then unconditional transitions to conditional.

I love you BUT

Clean up you room.

Let me go to the game.

Do your chores, then we will talk.

If you really loved me, you would let me…

Does my dog love me unconditionally or because I provide free food, so transactional?

This is a fundamental question to most interactions. Political or financial.

Where am I in the spectrum from unconditional to conditional to transactional to commercial love?

Somebody must be the First Mover who loves unconditionally. Gets the Pound Puppy. Has the infatuation. Says “I Love You!” First. Otherwise we all end up in the desert of commercial, transactional love. Alone.

I chose to love my spouse unconditionally.

I chose to love my children unconditionally.

I chose to love my dog unconditionally.

I chose to accept my infatuation with my biracial grocery clerk unconditionally, while also accepting my love of my spouse unconditionally, so don’t mention it to either…

Choose more unconditional love, and upgrade from conditional or transactional love. Somebody must to improve things, so be somebody. Even if all you do is kiss your dog…


In this video, Sting points out Cheb Mami as an equal or better singer. A true love of a fellow artist. In most English presentations Cheb is treated as at best a backup singer. But not to Sting.


I’d originally had some thing else in mind. But this caught my attention as a transactional thing. The horse has power, the woman has intelligence. Together they have something special as a transactional love. Same music as above.

The other teansactional…


In Conculusion

Love your spouse and your children unconditionally.

It is the best thing you can do to increase the love in the world.

Avoid negative energy sinks full of hate and commercial “love”.

Chose to love unconditionally. Someone. Somewhere.

Kick to the curb grumpy unhappy people devoid of love only lusting after transactions (Clinton) or commerce (Schiff / Nadler / Pelosi).

Life is too short to drink bad wine or suffer a loveless existance. Love is something you get by giving. There are plenty of opportunities to give.

Subscribe to feed

About E.M.Smith

A technical managerial sort interested in things from Stonehenge to computer science. My present "hot buttons' are the mythology of Climate Change and ancient metrology; but things change...
This entry was posted in Favorites, Human Interest and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

11 Responses to The Shape Of Love

  1. Julian Jones says:

    All an admirable proto-theology, don’t really need any more.

    Thank you !

  2. Julian Jones says:

    And so superior to the prevailing ethos; maybe best defined by Sid Vicious in his anthem for our times (EXTREMELY OFFENSIVE).

  3. Gary says:

    Written almost two millennia ago to a community in ancient Greece that was struggling to do the right things, this poetic passage is instructive for everyone in all times. From 1 Corinthians 13 as translated in the New International Version (NIV):

    If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

    Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

    Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

    And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

  4. tom0mason says:

    And when the unconditional does not quite work out …

  5. tom0mason says:

    And some relationships live within fear …

  6. H.R. says:

    @Gary – That’s how I learned it from my mother’s knee. My siblings and I were never taught conditional or transactional love. It sounds funny, but if we were inclined that way, mom would beat* those ideas out of us, all out of love, of course.
    *Beatings – During WWII, mom packed parachutes at what was then Randolph Field in Texas. The parachute packing paddle was polished hardwood and shaped like a flattened needle. It was about 2.5″ at its widest, 1/4″ thickest, and had about a 2″ radius at the top end tapering out to the wide point and then tapering down to the narrow end which had about a 1″ radius. It weighed all of 4-5 ounces. It was about two wooden rulers worth of wood, but dense hardwood.

    She got one because, as she told her co-workers, it would be perfect for raising kids.

    When she grabbed that thing to spank us, in our minds we were in for a beating with a spiked Louisville Slugger, but it was more sound and fury with a bit of sting than anything. It worked, and we caught on early. I think my last spanking with that was at about age 6 or 7 at the very latest. Maybe it was 5 or 6. You didn’t have to be too old to figure out that it was the idea of the spanking with that parachute paddle that hurt more than the actual spanking, so then it was time to switch to the loss of privileges as the disciplinary method of choice.

    Raise up a child in the path that is right and he shall follow it for all of his days. Now that’s love; raising your kid to know right from wrong and getting it ingrained into them at an early age.

    (Hmmph.. I just searched images for wooden parachute packing paddle and could not find an image of the one they used in WWII. Oh well. My tortuous description of it will have to do.)

  7. u.k.(us) says:

    I’ll take your Laura Branigan – Self Control and raise you one :)

  8. Gary says:

    @ H.R.
    My grandfather had one of those paddle toys with the rubber ball and cord (sans ball and cord). He called it “The Persuader.” Never had to use it on any of the grandkids, though. Fear of punishment is better than actual pain because it can lead into understanding of right behavior as being desirable. It’s more cerebral. Physical pain is more likely to influence a child to think of ways to subvert it rather than shun the causes of it.

  9. cdquarles says:

    I remember those. And very true. All granddad had to do, nearly all of the time, was threaten belt usage. He rarely had to actually use it. The few times he had to use physical punishment, he didn’t use the belt. He had us cut the switch he’d use to inflict it; and running made things worse. Take it like a man, he’d say.

  10. tom0mason says:

    Sometimes life ain’t so perfect…
    Mother used to con her many ‘boyfriends’ into punishing us kids, sometime it would really happen, sometimes they, and we, faked it. Either way you learned to roll with the pain and not let it bother you too much. As I grew up my usual line was — “Is that all, Mick, Pete, Ron (whoever) hit harder”.
    When all said and done, I loved my mother (she long gone now), despite her derangement and reliance on prescription drugs and drink.
    Sometimes life ain’t fair but you learn to get on, to try and progress no matter what start you get dealt.

  11. David A says:

    A Poem on Friendship that IMV says it all…
    Is friendship the weaving of the red strings of two hearts?
    Is it the blending of two minds into a spacious one-mind?
    Is it the spouting of love founts together-
    To strengthen the rush of love on droughty souls?
    Is it the one rose grown ‘twixt twin mind-branchlets
    Of one compassionate stem?
    Is it the one thinking in two bodies?
    Or, is it like two strong stallions,
    Disparate in color and mien,
    Pulling the chariot of life together
    To the single goal with one mind sight?

    Is friendship founded on equalities or inequalities?
    Is it built on diverse stones of differences?
    Is friendship the unthinkingly agreeing,
    The hand in hand, blind walking of two souls,
    Foolishly rejoicing in their united folly,
    Falling at last into a pit of disillusionment?

    Friendship is noble, fruitful, holy-
    When two separate souls march in difference
    Yet in harmony, agreeing and disagreeing,
    Glowingly improving diversely,
    With one common longing to find solace in true pleasure.
    When ne’er the lover seeks
    Self-comfort at cost of the one beloved,
    Then, in that garden of selflessness
    Fragrant friendship perfectly flowers.
    For friendship is a hybrid, born of two souls,
    The blended fragrance of two unlike flowers
    Blown together in love’s caressing breeze.
    Friendship is born from the very core
    Of secret inexplicable likings,

    Friendship is the fountain of true feelings
    Friendship grows in both likeness and difference.
    Friendship sleeps or dies in familiarity,
    And decays in lusts of narrow-eyed selves.
    Friendship grows tall and sturdy
    In the soil of oneness in body, mind, and soul.
    Demands, deceptions, sordid sense of possession,
    Courtesy’s lack, narrow self-love, suspicion,
    These are cankers which eat at the heart of friendship,
    Ah, friendship! Flowering, heaven-born plant!
    Nurtured art thou in the soil of measureless love,
    In the seeking of soul-progress together
    By two who would smooth the way each for the other.
    And thou art watered by attention of affection
    And the tender dews of inner and outer sweetness
    Of the inmost, selfless heart’s devotion,
    Ah, friendship! Where thy soul-born flowers fall –
    There, on that sacred shrine of fragrance,
    The Friend of all friends craves to come and remain!

Comments are closed.