Love for me has to be one the greatest fictions human have fabricated. It is one of those fairy tales, like Santa Clause that people are brought up from childhood, but then eventually most of us mature and realize the reality of love. We realize our parents did not have our interests exclusively in mind, that people can actually be quite cruel to each other, that most people are shallow and selfish, and that love is based on various factors like status, money, physical attractiveness or just convenience(e.g., going with somebody just because you don’t think you will get anybody else) We are also told fictions like god loves us or god is all loving, and of course some of us eventually realize we are being told fibs when we realize just how rampant suffering is in the world.
What is this thing called love? We say “I love chocolate” but what we are really saying is that chocolate produces within us pleasurable sensations. If it did not produce pleasurable sensations, but instead produced painful sensations, we would say “I hate chocolate” Likewise, when we encounter somebody who makes us feel good, we say “I love you” but when that same person makes us feel bad, we say “I hate you” Therefore all love is really selfish. It is based on how good we feel about ourselves.
Many times we have said “I love you” to somebody, and then a while later(days,weeks, months, years) we say “You have changed” What has really changed is that person no longer makes you feel good, so you no longer feel ‘love’
Humans have created their own fantasy worlds to make life seem more meaningful than say the life of a cockroach, a dog, a cow. Certainly a cockroach, a dog or a cow does not think, “I must love others or I must make another happy” No animals do not suffer from fantasy like humans do, so the live selfishlessly as nature intended them to do. They live to survive. Indeed, humans too lived like this in prehistoric times, when such notions as civilization or society did not exist, humans lived by hunting and gathering. Everybody for themselves.
Just as we humans think cockroaches are insignificant, likewise the gods think humans are insignificant. The rituals of the cockroaches, whether they live or die, their history or their personal life is insignificant to us humans, likewise our rituals, whether we live or die, our history and personal life is insignificant to the gods. As the Vedas say: “as animals are food for humans, humans are food for the gods.”
As somebody born a human I have a choice either to remain an insignificant and pathetic mortal human, the equivalent of a cockroach to the gods, or transform myself into a god. So it is better I do not waste my time with people and focus purely on myself, and that hard work will one day turn me into a immortal god, while they remain as pathetic insignificant mortals.