{Loving and Being in Love}[12th October 1971]

[Redbook1:227-228][19711012:0000a]{Loving and Being in Love}[12th October 1971]

Tuesday 12th October 1971

[continued]

            The question of love is important.  Few people properly appreciate the difference, though they act it all the time: ‘I love you’, a father says to his son, meaning that he loves the child; ‘I love you!’ he says to his wife (we hope), meaning that he is in love with her.  In the Commune we have three people, Richard, Susan and Katherine.  Richard is fortunate enough to be in bed with Susan and Katherine; but he is talking to them, trying to work out the differences in his attitude to each of them.  ‘You see,’ he tells them, ‘I love you both; or at least I love you, Kate, and I’m in love with you, Sue.’  ‘Explain.’ Kate says, pressing against him from one side.  ‘I’ll try.’ says Richard.  ‘You’re not exactly helping, either of you.’  ‘All right, we’ll go.’  ‘No! Look, loving Kate is a very happy thing; being in love with Sue has a touch of sadness.  It is much more intense. If Kate were to fall under a bus tomorrow, I should be really upset; I should be miserable.  But if Sue were to fall under a bus – well, I just can’t imagine it.  The bottom would drop out of my world.  My whole life would seem pointless, and bleak.  It’s not just a matter of degree, although the two ways do overlap a bit.  I might go to bed one night loving Kate and wake up the next morning in love with her; or I might go to bed in love with her and wake up no longer in love with her and end up loving her – perhaps after a time of hating her.  But there’s a quality about being in love which makes it quite different – a kind of tragedy in the back of it.  Love is deep in human terms, but being in love has greater spiritual depth.  I’m beginning to lose the thread – help!’

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