Usually when we love something, we want to possess it. If you appreciate a painting, you want to buy it and keep it in your home. You find a beautiful garment, and although you know you will wear it only a couple of times, you buy it and put it in the closet.
You have known only one way of loving — love it, possess it and forget it. When you try to possess love, you rob it of its beauty, and then that same love gives you pain.
Whoever you love, you try to dictate terms to them. In a very subtle way you try to rule them. And whatever you try to control turns ugly. You have never loved someone and not tried to possess them.
It begins in childhood. When the second baby comes, the first baby wants all the attention. “Why did you bring this baby home? Give it away.” Many children say,”You belong to me and me alone.” It is a deep samskara, a deep impression, this fear of losing our place in the heart of someone we love.
First comes attraction. When it becomes a little difficult to attain what you are attracted to, then you start loving it.
Have you noticed this? If you simply get whatever you are attracted to — just like that, quickly — you do not develop love for it. A longing must arise. That leads to love. But love brings the fear of loss.
Yet, a love which has the fear of loss does not blossom. It leads you to other ugly sensations and feelings. Jealousy comes.
There is someone you love very much — a friend, a boyfriend, a girlfriend — but his or her attention is on someone else. See what is happening in your stomach — it is churning. You try all sorts of gimmicks to deny what is happening within you.
Much ugliness arises because there is fear of loss. You never love something that is big, that is enormous because you have not yet become enormous yourself. And as long as you stay very small, there is no joy, there is no happiness, there is no peace. Joy is expansion, becoming big in your heart. This can only happen in a situation where you are very much in love, but you cannot possess what you love.