On Rabbits and Romance

Last Saturday, after one week of severe illness, and another week of more emotional upheaval than I've dealt with in years, I had a spiritual experience: I held a rabbit for the first time. It seemed strange that I would be overcome with emotion just by holding a little black fur ball against my chest, but I was. Of course, the rabbit was soft and cute and had beautiful eyes. See for yourself:

The bunny in question.

But there was more to it than that. For a brief moment, my relationship with this rabbit represented what I want so desperately in a romantic relationship, but have never quite found: to be loved simply for loving. I didn't have to change anything about myself to please the rabbit, or constantly worry that it would leap into someone else's arms unless I did whatever it wanted. I also never had to to worry that the rabbit would say one thing and mean another--that it would gaze at me adoringly, tell me it loved the way I petted its ears, and then bite me on the nose (the fact that animals can't talk is one of my favorite qualities of theirs). No, all I had to do to earn this rabbit's love was to hold it securely, touch it gently, speak softly, and not let go. In other words, all I had to do was love it.

I know I'm reading way too much into this, but we all create narratives to comfort ourselves in hard times, so I think I'm only being human when I describe how meaningful it was to feel that rabbit's heartbeat relax and his nervous little body grow still, paws outstretched as if holding onto me. I wish things were that simple with humans and romance--earning another person's affection just by being myself, and treating them with love and respect, seems to be a less and less attainable goal each year. It's always so much more complicated than it needs to be.

Why does finding love require slogging waist-deep through a swamp of anxiety, ulterior motives, and miscommunication? When did honesty become so difficult, both for me and for people I've loved?

Why is being emotionally vulnerable no longer seen as a form of courage?

Why can't sex be something people earn instead of take or buy? Why can't it arise from love and trust, instead of being pressured out of people with guilt and fear? When did it become a status symbol? When did it become a substitute for love, rather than a supplement? When did we start feeling so entitled to each others' bodies?

Why do we take everything sacred, strip it of its beauty, and turn it into a commodity or a way to gain power?

When did mutual sacrifice stop mattering in relationships?

Why does asking these questions, or treating actions as if they have meaning and consequences, get a person labeled as immature, naive, or idealistic? When did acting like an adult become childish?

These are just some of the things I've been asking myself over the past few days. Other people have implied that I believe what I do about love because I'm young and female, and that I'll likely outgrow my opinions. While I can't be sure that all of these opinions won't change with years and life experience, I can say right now that what I believe about love is firmer than ever, and I can prove that it's not just a matter of age or gender with the following quote (though I have many other examples as well):

“Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person’s ultimate good as far as it can be obtained.”--C.S. Lewis, God in the Dock: Essays on Theology and Ethics

C.S. Lewis, as an older man rather than a young woman, pretty much summed up exactly what I believe true love (not just mere attraction) to be in a single, beautiful sentence. Also read The Four Loves for more of his wisdom on the subject. In fact, I'd like to close this post with a wonderful quote from that particular book:

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”--C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves