or: I'm sorry, no florist works here.
Form follows function: A very brief introduction to the basic principle under the consideration of aspects in general biology and practical appliances.
(And that was not even my biggest problem today.)
As a metaphor for love often the image of a flower is used, with the red rose on its flag ship. Love that nourishes growth, flourishes, may last when it is taken care of well. That would be the same kind of love that also thirsts, withers, fades, or can catch mildew. A love you can cut the head off and its beauty passes by the heartbeat.
Did you ever try to replant wild clover? (Love thy turtle.)
It is not the one clover plant, the leaves you see, but tendrils growing in every direction, twining, taking roots to grow new leaves. Strawberries grow in the same way, especially wild ones.
Not to have one root, but many, not to have one stem, but a hundreds to show it’s growing well, not to be an appearance of summer, but to thrive all year – isn't that what love is?
Clover, more clover, endless fields of clover. Clover is countless.
(As linguistically indicated, clover is a mass noun and covers any amount. The plural “clovers” only exists to distinguish specifics, like different species of clover. Commonly used, the plural of narcissus is also narcissus, an all embracing concept for different reasons.)
A rose, a bouquet of red roses. The plural is obliging.
One rose, two roses: So there can be others? Love is countable and definable? Love is seasonal? It can be replaced? Well, it can sting... but thats another topic.
You grow a rose for the beauty of its flower, for the sweet scent of its glory days. It's love of the object.
Clover grows for its own purpose of existence. In the best kept lawn eventually some clover sneaks in, covering an area, because it can, rather than to grow in a single spot with favorable conditions, because it shall.
Also the tendrils don't judge as they entwine into the pattern.
Isn't that what love is? The manifestation of lives attitude to evolve in growth and to persist? To embrace life, the own and all encountered, as the natural flow of things? To rely on the process from the roots on, rather than on the bliss of the moment inevitably followed by the droop of disappointment?
As Erich Fromm (recommended for reading list!) puts it, love is an attitude, proportionally connecting us to the world as a whole. Love is an attitude serving it's own purpose of existence.
I think it can also work the other way around, that the amount of perceptible connectedness between the world as a whole and our “self” determines the attitude or ordinance of character towards love.
It works like mirrors. All things reflect back to you, multiplied. (Also the pain, hence the abuse has nothing to do with love.)
That is why some loves are bigger than others, wider, deeper, adipose, whatever you wanna call it.
Love is the natural flow, leaking in through the small cracks, filling all free spaces, but it cannot create them, also it can't enter into the sealed places (I can see why that is safer sometimes, but who wants to have a high-security save-sealed vault under vacuum in ones chest? Carrying that weight is one thing, but the heaviness comes from within.).
I believe love can grow, should, but there will be skin shed. The limits are that that what cannot be emphasized cannot be understood or acted upon, what doesn't exist cannot have a reflection. Between two people that might tip the balance... just never in favor to love – or the one feeling it.
Life is hard enough, off off to find a better love, there must be an easier way?
Well, you can't grow clover on a vast field and you can't fill a big love in a small container.
That's gonna spill.
Fancy, on your way to pass - leave the clover to the tortoises (above all, don't touch the roots, some plants actually use them!) and buy some cut flowers instead. They'll keep pace.
(Except one is in for the prick, then I just recommend to hug a f*cking cactus.)
The clover? Well, have you ever returned to your garden after winter noticing your clover perished because it froze to death?
Clover is as clover does.