The external restraint which love practices is often a mark of its freedom from internal limit. Love does not lay down the condition that it must be allowed freedom to express itself, nor limit its activity to those circumstances in which it may freely act. Love accepts without limit the discipline of circumstances. Although it always aspires to enlarge its own activity, it sometimes finds its most generous enlargement in the acceptance of restraint. Love must sometimes express itself in the renunciation of not disclosing itself.
That which love withholds is withheld for the sake of the other who is loved - so that it may not harm her, so that it may be used for a more timely service or so that it may mature into a richer gift. A person who loves holds nothing for himself: he reserves nothing as of right. That which he holds, he holds either on trust or as gift. He holds on trust that which awaits its own maturity or the need or capacity of the other to receive it: he holds as gift that which is returned to him in response of the other who is loved.
The authenticity of love must imply a totality of giving - that which we call the giving of self or self-giving. The self is the totality of what a man has and is: and it is no less than this that is offered or made available in love.
Love is activity for the sake of an other: and where the object of love is wholly under the control of the one who loves, that object is no longer an other. It is a part or extension of the professed lover - an extension of himself. Love has become distorted by the assurance of possession and control.
Where the object of love is truly an ‘other’, the activity of love is always precarious. Between the self and the other there always exists, as it were, a ‘gap’ which the aspiration of love may fail to bridge or transcend. That which love would do or give or express may fail to ‘arrive’ - through misjudgement, through misunderstanding or through rejection. Love may be ‘frustrated’: its most earnest aspirations may ‘come to nothing’: the greatness of what is offered in love may be wholly disproportionate to the smallness of that, if anything, which is received. Herein lies the poignancy of love, and its potential tragedy. The activity of love contains no assurance or certainty of completion: much may be expended and little achieved. The progress of love must always be by tentative and precarious steps: and each step that is taken, whether it ‘succeeds’ or ‘fails’, becomes the basis for the next, and equally precarious, step which must follow.
Love proceeds by no assured programme. Each step of love is a step of risk; and each step taken generates the need for another and equally precarious step.
The precariousness of love’s activity appears equally clearly in the field of artistic creation. It may be said of the artist that he is always stretching his powers beyond their known limit. If he works within his limit, proceeding by an assured programme and doing only that which he knows himself able to do, then he is no longer a creative artist: and his work falls into the category of reproduction or manufacture. In his activity the artist discovers his own capacity: but his capacity is not to be thought of as a fixed quantity, nor his activity as an experiment to detect the limit of that quantity. His work is not experiment but engagement - engagement which enlarges that which it employs by the risk of extending it beyond its known capacity. As the artist exceeds his known powers, his work is precariously poised between success and failure, between triumph and tragedy: it may be that the work of art is marred beyond redemption, or it may be that powers hitherto unknown will prove adequate to the completion and triumph of the work. As we watch a painter at work, or as we follow the unfolding of a poet’s theme, there comes the moment of the bold brushstroke or the adventurous image: and at that moment the work as a whole is thrown out of balance. The brushstroke seems excessively heavy, the image merely bizarre. If creative activity should be interrupted at that point, we should see the whole work marred, and the artist fall victim to his excess of boldness. But often it is precisely at that moment that we see the greatness of the artist: we see him able to triumph through his apparent excess - to use the brushstroke as the beginning of a new area of depth or radiance within the picture, to develop the image so that it becomes integral to an enlarged vision.
We see at the moment of lost control, the most intense endeavour of the artist: and his greatness lies in his ability to discover ever-new reserves of power to meet each challenge of precarious adventure - each challenge of power exceeded and of control lost.
In artistic creation, as in human relationships, the authenticity of love is denied by the assurance of control. Love aspires to reach that which, being truly an ‘other’ cannot be controlled. The aspiration of love is that the other, which cannot be controlled, may receive: and the greatness of love lies in its endless and unfailing improvisation in hope that the other may receive. As aspiration, love never fails: for there is no internal limit to its will to endeavour, to venture and to expend. But as specific achievement, love must often fail: and each step it takes is poignant for the possibility of failure.
The Precariousness of love is experienced, subjectively, in the tense passivity of ‘waiting’. For the completion of its endeavour, for its outcome as triumph or as tragedy, love must wait. One might even say that the subjective awareness of love appears first as awareness of the necessity of waiting. It is important to see that that for which the lover or the artist waits is not some gain or goal which might have been attained by different means, or some ‘reward’ for his devoted activity. The ‘reward’ for which he waits is nothing else than the completion of his own activity - the response of receiving which is the completion of his own activity of giving. For this the lover or the artist must wait: and the necessity of waiting brings home to him the precariousness of his love’s endeavour - its lack of final control over that situation which it has itself created. Where control is complete, and exercised in complete assurance, the falsity of love is exposed.
To that which is loved power is given which it would not otherwise possess and which otherwise would be unaccountable. It is ‘power of meaning’ - the power of having meaning to, or value for, the one who loves. It is the power of affecting the one who loves. Love is vulnerable in and through the beloved in the sense that in her its issue is at stake - its completion or frustration, its triumph or tragedy. He who loves surrendered into other hands the issue and outcome of his own aspiration its denouncement as triumph or as tragedy.
We are describing not that which any man has known or experienced but that towards which every man, at the depth of his being which is more profound than language, gropes and aspires.
-The Phenomenology of Love, W.H. Vanstone
Brett Dennen - Nothing last forever
That which love withholds is withheld for the sake of the other who is loved - so that it may not harm her, so that it may be used for a more timely service or so that it may mature into a richer gift. A person who loves holds nothing for himself: he reserves nothing as of right. That which he holds, he holds either on trust or as gift. He holds on trust that which awaits its own maturity or the need or capacity of the other to receive it: he holds as gift that which is returned to him in response of the other who is loved.
The authenticity of love must imply a totality of giving - that which we call the giving of self or self-giving. The self is the totality of what a man has and is: and it is no less than this that is offered or made available in love.
Love is activity for the sake of an other: and where the object of love is wholly under the control of the one who loves, that object is no longer an other. It is a part or extension of the professed lover - an extension of himself. Love has become distorted by the assurance of possession and control.
Where the object of love is truly an ‘other’, the activity of love is always precarious. Between the self and the other there always exists, as it were, a ‘gap’ which the aspiration of love may fail to bridge or transcend. That which love would do or give or express may fail to ‘arrive’ - through misjudgement, through misunderstanding or through rejection. Love may be ‘frustrated’: its most earnest aspirations may ‘come to nothing’: the greatness of what is offered in love may be wholly disproportionate to the smallness of that, if anything, which is received. Herein lies the poignancy of love, and its potential tragedy. The activity of love contains no assurance or certainty of completion: much may be expended and little achieved. The progress of love must always be by tentative and precarious steps: and each step that is taken, whether it ‘succeeds’ or ‘fails’, becomes the basis for the next, and equally precarious, step which must follow.
Love proceeds by no assured programme. Each step of love is a step of risk; and each step taken generates the need for another and equally precarious step.
The precariousness of love’s activity appears equally clearly in the field of artistic creation. It may be said of the artist that he is always stretching his powers beyond their known limit. If he works within his limit, proceeding by an assured programme and doing only that which he knows himself able to do, then he is no longer a creative artist: and his work falls into the category of reproduction or manufacture. In his activity the artist discovers his own capacity: but his capacity is not to be thought of as a fixed quantity, nor his activity as an experiment to detect the limit of that quantity. His work is not experiment but engagement - engagement which enlarges that which it employs by the risk of extending it beyond its known capacity. As the artist exceeds his known powers, his work is precariously poised between success and failure, between triumph and tragedy: it may be that the work of art is marred beyond redemption, or it may be that powers hitherto unknown will prove adequate to the completion and triumph of the work. As we watch a painter at work, or as we follow the unfolding of a poet’s theme, there comes the moment of the bold brushstroke or the adventurous image: and at that moment the work as a whole is thrown out of balance. The brushstroke seems excessively heavy, the image merely bizarre. If creative activity should be interrupted at that point, we should see the whole work marred, and the artist fall victim to his excess of boldness. But often it is precisely at that moment that we see the greatness of the artist: we see him able to triumph through his apparent excess - to use the brushstroke as the beginning of a new area of depth or radiance within the picture, to develop the image so that it becomes integral to an enlarged vision.
We see at the moment of lost control, the most intense endeavour of the artist: and his greatness lies in his ability to discover ever-new reserves of power to meet each challenge of precarious adventure - each challenge of power exceeded and of control lost.
In artistic creation, as in human relationships, the authenticity of love is denied by the assurance of control. Love aspires to reach that which, being truly an ‘other’ cannot be controlled. The aspiration of love is that the other, which cannot be controlled, may receive: and the greatness of love lies in its endless and unfailing improvisation in hope that the other may receive. As aspiration, love never fails: for there is no internal limit to its will to endeavour, to venture and to expend. But as specific achievement, love must often fail: and each step it takes is poignant for the possibility of failure.
The Precariousness of love is experienced, subjectively, in the tense passivity of ‘waiting’. For the completion of its endeavour, for its outcome as triumph or as tragedy, love must wait. One might even say that the subjective awareness of love appears first as awareness of the necessity of waiting. It is important to see that that for which the lover or the artist waits is not some gain or goal which might have been attained by different means, or some ‘reward’ for his devoted activity. The ‘reward’ for which he waits is nothing else than the completion of his own activity - the response of receiving which is the completion of his own activity of giving. For this the lover or the artist must wait: and the necessity of waiting brings home to him the precariousness of his love’s endeavour - its lack of final control over that situation which it has itself created. Where control is complete, and exercised in complete assurance, the falsity of love is exposed.
To that which is loved power is given which it would not otherwise possess and which otherwise would be unaccountable. It is ‘power of meaning’ - the power of having meaning to, or value for, the one who loves. It is the power of affecting the one who loves. Love is vulnerable in and through the beloved in the sense that in her its issue is at stake - its completion or frustration, its triumph or tragedy. He who loves surrendered into other hands the issue and outcome of his own aspiration its denouncement as triumph or as tragedy.
We are describing not that which any man has known or experienced but that towards which every man, at the depth of his being which is more profound than language, gropes and aspires.
-The Phenomenology of Love, W.H. Vanstone
Brett Dennen - Nothing last forever