“Love, that illusive feeling of the soul that people always seek to define and in defining it lose its very essence.” — Andrew Klein

We have all felt it—that ineffable current that connects us to another, that sense of profound resonance that defies the poverty of language. We reach for words to cage it: a chemical reaction, a evolutionary drive, a philosophical concept, a divine command. Yet, in the very act of definition, we commit a kind of spiritual violence. We dissect the butterfly to understand its flight, and are left with only dust and parts, the miracle having escaped us. Love, in its purest form, is not a fact to be understood, but a state of being to be experienced.

The Failure of the Map for the Territory

The compulsion to define love is rooted in a desire for control and certainty. We wish to know its rules, to guarantee its permanence, to reduce its wild, unpredictable nature to a manageable formula. Philosophers and poets have tried for millennia.

· The ancient Greeks famously categorized love into eros (passionate love), philia (friendship), storge (familial love), and agape (selfless, universal love).

· Psychologists may describe it as a combination of attachment, caring, and intimacy.

· Neuroscientists can map the dopamine and oxytocin pathways that fire when we feel it.

These maps are not without value. They help us navigate the outer coastlines of this vast continent. But the map is not the territory. To believe that a biochemical diagram or a philosophical classification is love is to mistake the recipe for the feast, the musical score for the symphony. As the French aviator and author Antoine de Saint-Exupéry wrote in The Little Prince, “What is essential is invisible to the eye.” Love’s essence resides in this invisible, unquantifiable realm.

Love as a Verb, Not a Noun

Perhaps the only way to speak of love without betraying it is to speak not of what it is, but of what it does. Love is not primarily a feeling we have, but an energy we express. It is a force of nature that becomes real only through action.

We see this truth in the most powerful examples:

· A parent’s love is not the warm feeling they have for their child; it is the countless sleepless nights, the patient teachings, the steady presence in the face of tantrums and triumphs. It is the action of unwavering commitment.

· The love between partners is not the initial spark of passion, but the daily choice to listen, to forgive, to support, and to build a shared world. It is the action of continual creation.

· Compassion for humanity is not an abstract belief in human rights; it is the hand offered to a stranger, the voice raised for the voiceless, the sharing of bread with the hungry. It is the action of radical empathy.

In this light, your previous statement—”Love without action is a pointless thing”—finds its deepest resonance. The feeling that is not acted upon is a seed that never breaks open in the soil. It is potential that never becomes real. Action is the language love speaks.

An Invitation to Experience

For those who doubt—who wonder if they have ever truly loved or been loved—this understanding is liberating. You need not struggle to define a feeling or measure its intensity. Instead, ask yourself different questions:

· Where is my attention? Love pulls our attention outward, toward the well-being of another. It asks, “How are you?” and truly waits for the answer.

· What do I build? Love is inherently creative. It builds a home, a family, a garden, a community, a sanctuary of trust. What small thing have you built or nurtured today?

· What do I give? Love is an act of giving, not of taking. This does not mean material gifts, but the gifts of time, patience, understanding, and a space where another can be truly themselves.

Do not seek a definition of love. Seek its evidence in your own life. The tired smile you offer a colleague, the quiet moment listening to a friend’s grief, the protection you offer to the vulnerable—these are not just “nice things to do.” They are the physical manifestations of love itself. They are the undefinable essence taking form in the world.

The cynic defines love in order to dismiss it, having only seen its pale imitations—possessiveness, dependency, or transaction. But the wise understand that to define it is to lose it. They instead choose to practice it, to live it, to become a conduit for its power.

Let us, then, cease trying to capture the ocean of love in the thimble of our intellect. Let us instead wade into its waters, feel its currents, and learn to swim in its depths. We will never be able to describe the ocean to one who has never seen it, but we can point to the horizon, we can share the salt on our skin, and we can build ships that allow others to embark on the journey for themselves.

Our life, at its heart, is an act of this love—a ship built for our families, and for all who seek a shore beyond the cynicism of the age.