Love is blind. But it is the most beautiful ineffectuality that I wish to every one of you. Because to love, means to be happy. Each one of us is looking for this happiness – it is our inherent characteristic, which is compared to wetness: you can’t separate wetness from water, and in the same way you can’t separate the desire to love from every spirit soul. We can see this in many instances. We, for example have a cat on our balcony, she just got domesticated here. We live on the first floor, and the balcony is open, so anyone can just go up here any time. And the cat just came to us and stayed. She lives in a carton quite satisfied with life. When I look at this animal, I observe how much love, attention and care she desires from another person. When Satya opens the balcony, our cat meows and fawns, showing how she wants love. In the beginning we thought she was hungry, but when bring her nice goodies, she hardly even looks at them, and still wants care. You have pet her, say sweet words and then she feels loved. Nothing is weird in that. Every one of us needs to love and be loved. Because, as I’ve already said, to love means to be happy, it means to locate you heart someplace where you don’t worry about it being broken and crushed. Only in this state, one may feel truly satisfied and fulfilled. Let me put here the most beautiful description of love:
Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing.
Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up. Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Love never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.
An ideal description, I don’t know a better one than this. The one who wrote it must have experienced the taste of real love. It is sad that this feeling is so rare in this world, as one great philosopher said: “Real love between people has become so rare that people don't even know what it is”…