People ask how come we stop loving. Why does Love grow cold? Why does Love’s fire cool off? Well, for one thing, we can’t emotionally and mentally keep up forever the frenetic pace of blooming into Love. We need the flames to settle. Everyone knows you can pass your finger through a flame without discomfort, but who wants to pick up a condensed and glowing coal? In Love, we eventually want the coals.

This is not to say that Love grows too hot to handle, or becomes untouchable, or something we must stay away from; instead, Love’s condensed magic, its undulating, pulsating energy draws us closer. You sit closer and stir the coals. You become calmer. And as you stir and connect with the coals you gradually, almost imperceptibly, almost subconsciously, add a twig here, a branch there, and a small log. You don’t even realize you’re feeding your fire. As long as you provide fuel and oxygen, the fire continues to burn. It’ll burn forever. Your roaring bonfire cooks down into glowing embers, but your fire need never go out.

Bonfire Love is massively fueled. You pile the wood up high and keep piling, tossing on everything in sight, there’s no such thing as too much. It roars to life and you feed it more. That’s because when you first bloom into Love, there is nothing you wouldn’t do for your Love. There is nothing you wouldn’t do for him or her because you’ve become a new person since they entered and altered your world. And because the new you suddenly feels so good, so fresh, so vibrant, and so alive, you want at all costs to keep the fire burning. Nothing at that point comes before your Love, he or she always comes first.

Suddenly you want dancing lessons. Your old clumsy dance floor ways aren’t good enough. You compliment him, straighten his tie. You bring her little gifts—token I Love yous—because you thought of her today. You call him just to say hello. . . and to mention lingerie. You hold her in your arms when you meet in the evening, draw her near, kiss her gently, and whisper sweet nothings. She whispers them back in every conceivable romance language and some not yet invented. You buy French, Italian, and Spanish dictionaries. You compliment her outfit, her cooking, her Loving. You pick this up for him. You drop this off for her. You draw faces on avocados. You take home dinner. You go out to dinner. You cook dinner together and just light the candles at home because it’s Monday. You open doors, you hold hands, you breathe one another in and out. You carry her purse. You compliment his outfit, his cooking, his loving. You shave a little closer. You take the trash out. You watch chick flicks. You enjoy them. Nothing comes before your Love. There is nothing you wouldn’t do or wouldn’t try for your Love.

How come we stop loving? Why does Love cool off? Love most often grows cold because we fail to tend the fire. We let life intervene, life come between our Love. Our Love falls to second place. We forget the oxygen, or the fuel, or both. Maybe we thought someone else would tend the coals as we slept. You don’t stop by the cleaners. You don’t surprise her with small I love you presents. You don’t call him to mention lingerie in the middle of the day. The candles stay in the cupboard. Chick flicks become a chore. You don’t compliment his outfit, his cooking, his loving; he fails to compliment yours.

The good news is that embers hold their heat a long time and can almost always be rekindled. You don’t need a bonfire; a calm, warm, undulating fire can be had by adding a twig at a time, then a stick, a branch, and a log. Suddenly you’ll realize that she’s adding fuel to the fire too and she’s whispering lingerie thoughts mid day.