For seven years, I led a class at The School of Life in Melbourne focused on maintaining lasting relationships. One exercise I regularly used involved three intersecting circles labeled love, friendship, and sex. Participants were asked to consider which of these they believed were essential for a successful long-term partnership. However, this often led to confusion—while sex and friendship were clear enough, the definition of "love" frequently seemed elusive. Was it passion? Emotional attachment? Admiration?
This confusion raised a deeper question: if the affection we feel for a close friend doesn't qualify as love, then what does? This often prompted discussions about the ancient Greek classifications of love—eros, agape, philia, among others—highlighting how our modern vocabulary lacks the nuance to discuss love’s many forms. Much like the fabled numerous Inuit words for snow, we may need a richer language to capture a concept so fundamental to our inner lives. Once we set aside the illusion of everlasting romantic and sexual ecstasy, what remains? What does it actually mean to love someone?
Erich Fromm, a notable German psychoanalyst, tackled this very question in his seminal work The Art of Loving. He argued that we often misplace our attention—focusing on how to be loved or find love, instead of learning how to love. According to Fromm, love isn’t merely a feeling; it is an action, a skill. He described love not as infatuation or emotional intensity, but as a practice rooted in care: patience, kindness, responsibility, attentiveness, and understanding.
This view stands in stark contrast to the idealized, sugar-coated portrayals of love we see in movies and media. Fromm pointed out that while falling in love is relatively effortless, staying in love requires conscious effort—especially during hard times when love isn’t easy to feel. True love, in his view, is a daily commitment to being present, attentive, and responsible toward another person.
Love, then, is both an attitude and a way of behaving. We may never perfect it, but we can strive to live by its values. Freud once emphasized the importance of love and work in human life; Fromm took this further, suggesting that love itself is a kind of work—work that demands energy, effort, and intentionality. This doesn't make love joyless; rather, it elevates its significance. Without effort, love becomes shallow—mere indulgence. Fromm’s view connects love to consistent care, presence, and thoughtfulness.
Neglect—not just abuse—is love’s opposite. The failure to attend to a relationship, to put in the work of love, can lead to its breakdown. Simply declaring love, especially after prolonged absence or emotional withdrawal, isn’t enough. Love without corresponding acts of care and presence is empty.
Still, we must be careful not to mistake love for mere permissiveness. Loving someone sometimes means making difficult choices, and discerning what constitutes a loving action can be challenging. This is a common struggle for parents: should they be strict or nurturing in a given moment? Truly loving someone means acting in their best interest, which requires deep understanding—and that, in turn, requires wisdom. Every person is complex, and love demands that we continually try to understand them more fully.
This principle applies to self-love, too. In the 1970s and 80s, the self-esteem movement attempted to promote self-love through affirmations like “I am special” or “I can do anything.” But this approach often led to inflated egos and unrealistic expectations. Real self-love, like love for others, is not about constant self-praise—it’s found in everyday actions: eating well, exercising, resting, and setting boundaries. These habits reflect care for oneself, and feelings of self-worth often grow from these acts.
Once again, we often confuse love as a feeling with love as an action. When the feeling fades, we might assume love is gone. But if love is something we do, then the absence of feeling doesn’t necessarily mean the end. A relationship may suffer not because love has vanished, but because we’ve stopped nurturing it. Love is like a garden: it needs tending.
That said, not every relationship is meant to last. A lack of affection over time can indicate deeper issues. And it’s fair to expect mutual care in a relationship. Still, many relationships suffer from complacency—taking love for granted once the initial excitement fades. Love requires ongoing, conscious effort. We must see and respond to our partners as they are now, not merely as they were when we first met.
Many people imagine finding a partner as the key to happiness, believing someone else’s love will complete them. But two empty vessels cannot fill each other. To love someone well, we must have love to give. Grand gestures and romantic declarations may feel satisfying, but the real nourishment of a relationship lies in small, daily acts of care and attention. Cultivating love is a lifelong practice, not something we switch on when the "right" person appears.
Even in solitude, we can practice love. When someone dedicates time to restoring a classic car, caring for a garden, or creating art, they’re expressing love through focused attention and effort. Neglect, on the other hand, reveals where love is absent.
Mindfulness, too, is a form of love—it involves being present with ourselves and the world. Artists and poets often practice this through their craft, offering a kind of loving gaze upon ordinary things. As Henry Miller said, "To paint is to love again." Artists help us see what we often overlook, reminding us that love is about noticing, appreciating, and sharing the beauty in the world.
When we view love as a continuous act of caring attention, we see why it is so hard to embody perfectly. We have limited time, energy, and understanding. But striving to love more fully—even imperfectly—can transform our relationships and enrich our lives.
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