In the English language, we have one primary word for love. Just… Love. There are certainly synonyms and words that expand upon it, but we typically use one word while other languages are a bit more expansive.
I’ve decided that it would be wonderful if these kinds of experiences and feelings of love had names:
— There’s a wonderful feeling of discovering that you are known in your specificity and loved in your limitations, and that without saying anything, people anticipate and accommodate what you need, including barriers that might be challenging for you.
I’ve experienced that. That’s love. I wish it had its own name.
— There’s a wonderful feeling of discovering that people think about things and frame things in particular ways because they’ve internalized stories you have told, and when they reveal this to you, there’s a beautiful surprise of recognizing that they have internalized pieces of you, just as you have internalized pieces of them.
I’ve experienced that. That’s love. I wish it had its own name.
— There’s a wonderful feeling of discovering you have commonality with a person, that simply being in their presence returns you to a part of yourself, a piece you didn’t even know was missing.
I’ve experienced that. That’s love. I wish it had its own name.
–There’s a wonderful feeling of discovering that people now see you — really see you in some of your more challenging moments — not in an exposed way but in an expansive and affirming way, demonstrating a recognition that you have struggled and prevailed, and showing you a surprising amount of compassion, awe, and respect.
I’ve experienced that. That’s love. I wish it had its own name.
Smuggling Grace 