Anger at God

During recent tragedy one thing that's changed is my conception about being angry with God. To be clear, I'm not sure I can say I have ever been angry with God in my life. Some may ask why, and it's likely because I've never really taken the absolutist, omnipotent, or total control of every worldly detail view of God. I believe God is only omnipotent as they have access to all power, and even then I understand that a belief in a just God obviates the ability to believe in an omnipotent God as certain laws greater than that God must then be followed. I've also believed strongly in free will, and that God's protection or preservation thereof is a necessary condition for their existence, or at least their Godhood. However, I am also convinced in a personal God, one who cares deeply for their children and wishes involvement in their lives (but like any good parent, must limit their involvement to allow independence to develop).

I find the parental analogy very compelling, and this has led me to an interesting thought on being angry with God. A quick search on being angry with God will reveal how many people are uncomfortable with the idea. It feels blasphemous, perhaps, but I think there's one person who's quite OK with people being angry at God and that's God themself.

My wife and I hope to have kids, and that hope's no longer in the distant future, so I've read the occasional article about parenting, discussed it with friends and family, and tried to gain what experience I can watching over others' children. I've learned that a mature adult generally weathers the storm and is understanding of a child's anger, even though it often ends up pointed toward them, without becoming upset or angry about the situation themselves. Good parents understand and allow their children to become angry, they often don't take it personally, and recognize that they may have to accept their child's fury themselves because understanding the larger situation is beyond the child (at least at this point in their development).

Some of this thinking may have come together when a friend of mine who is a mother took a sip of her son's drink, leading to a short spat of crying and yelling, "I didn't want you to do that!" over and over. That moment seemed so childish, crying out wishing an event hadn't happened but not providing any ideas for redress or seemingly unwilling to come to an understanding or acceptance of the painful reality of what's occurred, and yet it also seemed so familiar as I and my loved ones were often doing the same only our yells were, "I wish she hadn't died." This may seem uncaring on my part to compare a child's displeasure and losing out on a sip of milk to the death of a loved one, but from God's perspective it might not be so different, and again I find the similarities of the emotional turmoil experienced eerily similar.

Yes, I'm certainly speaking from a Christian perspective here, but I've tried to ensure I'm speaking in the most general terms. If you're an atheist, agnostic, or otherwise unaligned or undecided allow me to speak to you a little more closely at this time, and if you're one of my Christian or otherwise theistic audience members lend me some latitude for a moment. One of the important roles of God is that of an abstraction, or even verbal shorthand. Some theists like to make much of Einstein's very profound theism, but the God of Einstein probably more resembled the impersonal physical laws pervading all creation through all time than the proverbial sky daddy in which many of them might profess faith. From this perspective anger at God is easy to understand; we're angry at the whims of fortune that brought us to our current place (and hey, like the ancient myth-makers knew when they came up with Thor, Ares, or Sopona it's more cathartic to personify your ill fate than to allow it to persist ethereal).

So I think God completely accepts our anger towards them. That said, anger isn't a healthy emotion. Without even addressing the psychology, it increases blood pressure and depresses the immune system so it is unwise to maintain for long periods of time. I think this is why forgiveness is so powerful, and so important. The concept of forgiveness is often abused, taken to mean we can't treat people or entities with suspicion or coolness when that may be exactly what is deserved, but I think forgiveness starts with releasing the feelings of rancor and hatred toward others. Forgiveness can go beyond that, but often anything beyond that requires penitence on the part of the trespasser, so the beginning may well be the most important part of forgiveness if only because it will be the most often used.

Whether one conceives of God as a loving cosmic Allfather or even as an impersonal cosmic force permeating the universe and seen in its structure and beauty we can accept anger toward God, and perhaps even recognize it as necessary at times. When to move beyond this anger, to forgive God and once again connect with the omnipresent divinity will depend on the individual and is likely to be a difficult task. I pray those in need may do so, and hope these meager thoughts on the matter help.

Pluto Should Never Have Been a Planet

I just finished reading Mike Brown's How I Killed Pluto and Why it had it Coming, and it was a fantastic read.  It got me thinking of so many things; scientific progress and history, how the public perceives scientific ideas, becoming entrenched in a way of thinking, distress over change, and how so much of education seems to be storing data in memory rather than learning algorithms (and man for some reason I've really been connecting with my inner computer scientist lately) are just some of the highlights.  It's amazing how much depth there is to the trivial or technical classification details of a rock out there past Neptune.  There's one more aspect of the book that I loved, Mike Brown's humanity in his love for his wife, his daughter, and the sky, but I think I'll write about that in detail later.

I remember when Pluto was reclassified.  Many jokingly consoled forlorn Pluto, kicked out of the planet club by the big boys.  After reading the book I find it odd, why did no one talk about Eris (the Kuiper belt object actually larger than Pluto which theoretically could have been the tenth planet)?  Why did no one bring up Charon, Pluto's moon which is almost as large as Pluto?  Why did no one discuss what exactly it meant to be a planet, and how exciting it was that we were learning more about our solar system in finding so much out there in a whole new asteroid belt out beyond the gas giants, the aforementioned Kuiper belt?

I've groused before on this blog about the dreadful way mathematics is taught, perhaps it's time to get some of that ire up for science as well.  One thing the book made clear is that we all learned that the planets are Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and (as we learned at least) Pluto.  Did any of us ever learn what a planet is?  I think the 'Pluto controversy' pretty clearly indicates no, we didn't.  If we had we would have always found Pluto's planethood a little odd.

Pluto's moon doesn't orbit around it, they orbit around each other.  Pluto's orbit is eccentric from the other planets.  Pluto is smaller than many planet's moons, including Earth's.  To kids and creatives that might make Pluto mysterious and fascinating (it did to Mike Brown as a child), but to scientists and logical thinkers it seems misplaced in the solar system.  And indeed it was.

But no one really seemed to feel that way.  We all sort of felt bad for Pluto, and some people might have even been upset.  I think there's two major components why.  The first is, as I alluded to, the way we learn science.  The next is our unwillingness to accept change.

Thinking about the Pluto controversy I am brought to worry that we are often taught 'the way things are'.  Mike Brown talks about trying to get students out of the mindset of, "Give me the answers I need to know for the test".  The unfortunate implication is that something gets them into this mindset in the first place.  Standardized testing is a convenient and popular target for modern problems in education, but I'd feel remiss if I didn't mention that of necessity it requires students to memorize and later regurgitate facts, and testing any deeper thought processes is at the very least much more difficult.

I read a NYT article that talked about why teaching the difference between fact and opinion like we currently do in schools is morally perilous, as well as simply fundamentally misguided.  It points out interesting ideas, like how teaching children that facts are provable and true causes them to equate truth with provability, even though they're very different things.  I think a focus on 'facts' in science class also carries a dogmatic implication for young students.  Science is always true because we collected evidence for our ideas.  Here's where the distress comes up; Pluto no longer being a planet means facts can change as our understanding does.

And that opens up a whole new can of worms in our minds.  It forces introspection and meta-cognition, in which sadly most of us are loath to participate.  It creates a crisis of certainty, because after all if Pluto being a planet isn't true what other tidbits we learned might not be true?  Doubt is, unfortunately, scary to many.  We're unwilling to change our thinking, to update our knowledge, to print retractions or errata for our memories.  This is why teachings of humility are so important.  They allow us to maintain our sense of self and identity even when we're forced to change our thinking, context, or experience.

A great idea that came together for me when I read The Island of Knowledge is that science must necessarily be the least sure of itself of all human endeavors or reservoirs of understanding.  It must be forever willing to except new evidence or observation which proves previous ideas wrong, and moreover perhaps must forever be seeking these out.  No less than the well known and liked Neil DeGrasse Tyson recently said in a podcast I listened to that the greatest problem is always dogmatism, because it ends a conversation and makes learning from others difficult or impossible.  Let's take this to heart, accept that Pluto should never have been a planet, and rejoice in the fascinating newly unfolding mysteries of that Kuiper belt.

Fix it Mommy!

Over this last weekend I had the opportunity to see a number of my cousins, many of which have young children.  One moment in particular stuck out for me.  One of the mothers asked for some sort of cream or lotion to give her child.  The child specifically wanted what I believe was an anti-histamine cream to relieve some itching, but the mother knew that anything with roughly the same physical properties would fill the child's real need; to have their problem attended to and be given a simple solution.

Children are obligated to go to their parents to fix the majority of their problems.  In infancy they have only the one signaling mechanism to do this, crying, and deploy it whenever they experience discomfort or want so they can obtain the attention of parents that will then fix the problem.  As children get older parents teach them more sophisticated signaling mechanisms (such as 'using their words'), but the drive is the same, get the attention of mom or dad so that they'll put in the effort to fix my problem.

I also witnessed the impotent rage and anguish children experience when this process fails, or even more horribly when mom or dad suddenly turn and become the cause of vexation (like being told to leave the swimming pool).  The wise parents I was with simply weathered the tantrums and softly prompted their kids to learn to manage their emotional responses with greater aplomb.  The lesson will hopefully be learned by these children, though it will probably take a few more years of experience and cerebral development.

What struck me was the inborn drive represented by this, and the realization of how often this thinking expresses itself throughout society.  We are constantly turning to figures of authority and power hoping that with their attention and efforts focused on us our problems will get fixed.  We get angry when those we think are supposed to fix our problems do things that stifle our enjoyment and comfort.  At another point I also discussed with my father, a professional psychological counselor, how so many want a pill to fix their problems and prefer that solution despite numerous benefits therapy has over drugs.

We can be active and fight to better our lives when possible, and feel the disappointments of unfortunate but unyielding circumstances without letting that sadness or anger hijack our mind.  I'm taking a class in pharmacology over the summer and the lesson that comes up over and over is that all drugs have side effects, and therapy is always just a matter of handling one thing with a cost that's deemed acceptable.  As Thomas Sowell put it, "All that goes with the territory, that is with a universe we did not make having constraints we cannot escape, and offering only trade offs however much the intelligencia and the politicians proclaim solutions."

The realization that there are no easy solutions for the biggest problems in our lives and that we're doomed to an eternal existence of managing (as opposed to fixing) the obstacles in our personal lives and our community is sobering, indeed.  It is also what we must accept if we want to truly gain maturity beyond the child yelling, "Fix it, mommy!"

Are We Ready for Post Scarcity? Part 1

The abundance of the modern day is staggering.  Food alone is now requiring few man hours and producing vast amounts of product.  In about 25 years the personal computer has gone from a relatively cutting edge office device to a ubiquitous handheld one.  The amazing advances in technology will only cascade into more, and these will bring amazing blessings, conveniences, and boons to humankind.  These are gifts we should be prepared to freely receive, but like a gift of chocolate that will make us sick if eaten to quickly or heavy book that will require much reading and concentration we need to be receive these with caution and adroitness.

Let's go back to food.  One of the interesting points of contention between my brothers, me, and our grandmother is our approach and mentalities surrounding food.  Our grandma, growing up in a family that suffered through and being born shortly after the great depression, views food as a precious and scarce resource.  She often views food in terms of availability, enjoying buffets and inexpensive diners and being anxious over throwing away uneaten scraps or spoiling produce.  My brothers, and even my parents, live in the modern age and see food as abundant.  We don't like to waste food, but recognize that when the bread gets moldy it should be thrown out because it only costs a dollar or two (ten minutes of work at minimum wage) to get another loaf.  We live devoid of the "clean your plate" ethic so common in past generations.

Thank heavens for that too, as obesity and overeating are a greater health risk to us than malnutrition (though I am skeptical of the magnitude of this risk).  It's actually odd to think about health risks arising because nourishment is so easy to obtain.  Taking anatomy and physiology I've learned hundreds of ways in which a deficiency of calcium, iodine, glucose, iron, or any other number of dietary intakes cause problems.  It's bizarre to think of problems coming about simply because we have so much of those things we need and love that we run out places to put it and spend so much time and energy to keeping it all together.

Food is only the beginning of this, though.  Technology is more and more in in the reach of anyone who'd like it.  Entertainment and education is more available than ever with the internet.  And these are just the commodities being made abundant with modern technology.  Go even slightly futuristic and we have productive capabilities exploding via robotics, precious metals or gems having their scarcity destroyed by advanced chemical and materials engineering techniques, and even thought or creativity flooding the market in ways never before seen thanks to better distribution systems, or even AI and other futuristic computing creating new art.

The challenges presented by this can be staggering though.  The central one is likely motivation.  Survival and status have been the principle motivators of a person in the past.  That might have meant being the mightiest hunter in the tribe that's always well fed or the most influential business magnate on wall street who always had some opportunity waiting, but the principles been the same.  Many of us have said something like, "I really don't want to go to work today but they won't pay me if I don't so I guess I had better," and we've probably even said that with some frequency.  If we reach post scarcity we theoretically won't ever need to get paid, so what will keep us getting out of bed in the morning and off the streets?  I'll be investigating this and other ideas of a post-scarcity society and economy in part 2.

From an Aspiring Medical Professional

I've always been a scientist.  Some of my earliest memories are wanting to use beakers, test tubes, & microscopes in school.  My mother tells me that one of my favorite toys as a child was an old radio I was allowed to disassemble and rebuild, being fascinated at how the pieces fit together.  I've always seen science as exciting and fun.  For most of the time that I understood the concept I've seen it as a noble pursuit as well.  "The glory of God is intelligence," I was taught, and science is a rigorous pursuit of understanding.

I've learned since then about the very human nature of this endeavor.  Learned things like how Newton's preference for a 'corpuscular' or particle theory of light, rather than the wave theory which works better, probably set back the field of optics a century or two, but few wanted to propose ideas that would dare contradict the great and powerful Newton.  I've learned this about religion, philosophy, sports, families, and just about everything else humans do as well, though.  These days science may have trouble acknowledging its limitations, but it does good and improves the human condition.  And yet the ranks of those who share this view are suffering loses.

This seems mostly in the field of medicinal and health sciences.  This rarely used to bother me, but it is more and more lately.  Maybe it's because I'm getting older and the issues are closer to affecting me and involving choices I'll have to make.  Maybe it's just because things that were more fringe in the past are getting talked about more these days.  Maybe it's because part of me agrees that this field of science is a lot more blurry than the physics and mathematics I originally studied, but entering into the field I'm seeing the strength of the science.  I'd be remiss not to have mentioned these possibilities in a writing about science, rigor, and emotion, but I don't think they're the reason.  At least not the primary one.

I am an aspiring medical professional.  I'm going into radiography or clinical laboratory science, depending on which program accepts me and a few other factors.  I feel like scientific thinkers, which would include many medical professionals and certainly myself, rarely make effective arguments that would entice someone not scientifically inclined to rethink their ideas.  This is likely because anecdotes, emotional pleas, and pithy quips will not change the fundamental forces of nature and therefore aren't the first thing reached for in scientists' mental toolboxes.  So it feels odd for me to speak about my emotional and personal reactions in the context of understanding biomedical science, but it may be just what some need to hear.

There always seems to be an edge of accusation toward the medical profession by those that eschew its methods.  It's difficult for me to say this as I don't believe it's intentional, but it is the truth.  The message is that the medical profession, and therefore medical professionals, is a bumbling ignoramus unwilling to understand the simple truths that should be instinctively understood, a shadowy or scaremongering elite seeking only power and control, or an uncaring power more interested in processing patients to collect their checks than healing them.  It may be some combination of the three, but these are the primary narratives with their implications laid bare and made plain.

I believe they are all wrong, but moreover I know they are all insulting.  I think this might be why I've been more affected by those who leave the ranks of accepted science for other conceptions of fulfilling medicine.  The secret message in those actions, words, and thoughts are that I don't care about my patients.  I do care about my patients, and I don't even have any yet.  I study hard and ensure I understand the concepts of my classes because I worry about making the wrong call and endangering someone's health.  I've listened to opposing views, considered the ideas, and always been unconvinced that those methods and practices would best serve the sick or the healthy.  I want to get paid for application of the skills I'm acquiring, sure, but I did when I worked other customer service positions as well and was still driven to serve the client.  When I see someone taking medical risks I'm annoyed because so often those risks are unnecessary, and I care about them.  So, from an aspiring medical professional, please reexamine your ideas if you're forgoing modern medicine.  Please give me and my ilk the benefit of the doubt and some level of trust.  We're absolutely doing our best to deserve that much.

Well behaved women seldom make history.

I've never been very fond of the slogan in this post's title, I guess because the idea of rebellion and, "behaving badly" hasn't held much appeal for me.  Imagine my surprise, then, when I found the original author of the famous slogan far from intended the meaning it now holds, and may even agree with me-at least to some degree.

The phrase, "Well behaved women seldom make history," was first written my Laurel Thatcher Ulrich in a scholarly paper on Puritan funeral sermons.  Being far from an academic of history myself I've not read the original paper, but after looking into things a little bit it appears that the author's intention was to point out the way these Puritan women weren't seeking fame or glory.  The same paper contains the (much more poignant, in my own opinion) line, "They never asked to be remembered on Earth.  And they haven't been."

From what I've found about Ulrich's career, the paper may have also served as criticism of the way history is studied.  She seems to have lobbied criticism at the historical establishments and their failures to appreciate the effects and actions of the rank and file members of society.  When honored as a professor at Harvard it was said

Ulrich is a pre-eminent historian of early America and of the history of women. Her innovative and widely influential approach to history has been described as "a tribute to 'the silent work of ordinary people'" - an approach that, in her words, aims to "show the interconnection between public events and private experience."

When briefly discussing the famous quote with my wife she quickly arrived at the conclusion of, "Well behaved people rarely make history."  There are some striking examples of this in technology.  Edison is famous for the popularization of electricity and numerous inventions, but his contemporary and most likely superior Nikolai Tesla is only recently being recognized for his startling genius.  Steve Jobs recently passed away to much fanfare and mourning while Dennis Ritchie - inventor of the C programming language and developer for the Unix operating system on which iOS is built - passed away around the same time to little to no fanfare.  Tesla struggled with mental illness (he almost certainly had OCD) in a time where it was much less understood or empathized.  Jobs was a demanding CEO who while Mr. Ritchie was more likely a quiet academic and engineer.  Even these examples show how we focus in on certain celebrities rather than recognizing the many brilliant minds and Menlo Park or Apple that worked under the direction of these magnates.

I think this is where my quarrel with the famous quote comes in; it reinforces the idea that to be great or important, to influence history, to "make a difference" one must necessarily acquire fame in the process.  The first black president of the United States would not have been elected without a society that collectively let the scourge of racism whither on the vine rather than hold on to obsolete mentalities.  Dr. Ulrich addresses the idea, "that 'empowered' women are by definition 'wild' women.  That is a very old idea.  Since antiquity, misogynists have insisted that females, being more emotional than males, are less stable, more likely to swing between extremes."  She also points out that, "Marie Curie didn't win two Nobel prizes  by throwing tantrums in the lab." and that Rosa Parks made history not only for her refusal to abide with the bigoted laws of her day but also because she was recognized as a hard working, upstanding, "well behaved" woman (other women had been arrested for the same thing, but unlike Rosa Parks their lifestyle choices made it too hard to build a case to fight the unjust law they were bucking).

In my younger years, probably until about my junior year of college, I enjoyed aspirations to fame and greatness.  I wanted to win the Nobel for physics after making my own re-writes to the laws that govern our universe.  I still wouldn't mind doing this, or any other number of fantastic ventures, but I'm also content with my current role in life, unimpressive though it may be especially when compared with the grandiose aspirations of my youth.  I feel that I will have lived a life of incalculable worth and leave a powerful legacy even if no one remembers my name after 100 years as long as I continue learning and enriching my mind, be a good husband to my wife (and someday I'm sure, a good father to my children), work hard and earn money honestly, use that money wisely, and live in accordance with my values.  I don't feel women should be robbed of this feeling of contentment that living an unassuming & simple but upstanding and meaningful life because they are told that they should be empowered & wild, rebellious, and "not well behaved."

Sharing an Idea

Since I just got married I've been posting about marriage, relationships, and the like lately and I've seen an interesting thing happen, people responded.  I got comments, page views, and people telling me how much they liked my last post.  It's always nice to hear feedback from others and find out people are actually paying attention.  Still, part of me is actually a little disheartened by this surge of interest, because it carries an implication that people didn't read, or just plain didn't care about what I was writing before.

I wouldn't have predicted my newer writings would have eclipsed some of my others, because I find them more personal in scope.  Curiosities of my personality, musings on relationships (of which there's already enough literature to fill several libraries of Alexandria, and what I bring surely cannot be that novel), and altogether introspection on how I feel during such a pivotal moment of my life.  Maybe I should be honored and awed that others care about enough that they love my introspection.  Maybe they feel they're getting to know me better through my writings, and that's what engages them so deeply, and again I should be cheerful to know people like getting to know me.

But perhaps that's also just it.  Yes that personal side who loves his beautiful new wife and was eager to marry her is there.  Yes, I have thoughts and feelings about romance and love like most everyone else.  Yes, I am relate-able in those ways and those are all important to me.  There are other things that are deeply meaningful to me, though.  These are things that run from boring to meaningless to spurned to intimidating (and therefore avoided as much as possible) to much of the population in which I live.

Often what I write blog posts if not necessarily to change vernacular perspective at least to offer a different one.  I find topics of science, mathematics, and technology - and especially the public's interaction with these - of immense importance.  These are the ventures of human endeavor that will shape the future to which hurtling toward us faster and faster every day (ponder a moment on the technologies changing the way we communicate and relate to one another that have come to fruition in the last ten to twenty years) and the lijera (Spanish for lightness, but possibly carrying an extra connotation or two that made me want to use it in place of an English word here) with which people take these today is distressing to me.

I was once asked by an aunt something like, "What's it like to be as smart as you are?"  My answer was a jocular but wistful, "Lonely," and then by way of explanation, "When I talk about something that I find fascinating and then see the eyes of whomever I'm speaking with glaze over what do I do?  Pretend something important to me isn't or speak without regard to a fellow human being."

A Personal Oddity of Emotional Expression

I'm a scientist.  I'm not a poet, an artist, writer, or orator.  Well, I think there's a pretty convincing case to be made that mathematics and seeing the beauty of nature in the laws that govern it have artistic merit, I'm at least an amateur writer (I have, like I suspect many do, a few beginnings to books, short stories, or articles), and am actually a pretty decent public speaker (though maybe not anymore, I haven't really done any public speaking for quite a while), but I'm speaking here to my outlook on the world and my communication with others and a scientific outlook has strongly influenced these aspects of who I am.  There's two things that I find especially influenced by this background; objectivity and concern for clarity.

I explain that so I can explain this, it's very difficult and a little odd for me to tell my wife I love her.  Not because I don't, I'm madly in love with her.  Not because I think there's anything wrong or strange about it either, but because it's so hard to know what I'm saying.  Often when we are sitting in our apartment together I let those words, "I love you," sum things up, hoping that my feelings are transmitted correctly.  In other moments though, when I want to expound on what that means, on the way I'm excited by her beautiful form, the softening spark in me of her amazing smile, the joy I take in her fun personality, or the deep passion when I notice how well read and thoughtful she is, I don't know what to say.

One thing is I feel like I've said it all before, and I hate repetition.  Rather, perhaps, I know that expressing something in a new way is more powerful than repeating something you've heard before.  Heard enough times anything can seem clichéd.  How many different ways are there to say, "You're beautiful and I'm very attracted to you," though?  I have a fairly formidable vocabulary, but still there are only so many synonyms for beautiful, happy, and love that one can use meaningfully.

Often, and bear with me through the cheesiness of this statement, words seem inadequate.  I can tell how I'm feeling, but how do I express that?  And moreover, when I feel something so powerfully, how do I express that with equal power?  If I'm to be clear in communicating my feelings, what do I do when I feel something which seems more potent than the words I've been using.  Moments where recognition of all her glorious beauty flares up in a way that I guess I've felt before, but certainly feels new and exhilarating surely can't be expressed in a simple, "You're so pretty/beautiful/stunning/gorgeous/sexy," when I've already said that many times before, ¿can they?

I've mentioned before that I have a certain emotional austerity.  That doesn't mean I don't feel strongly, I do. It does mean I usually hold off on expressing what I feel, and moreover that when I do I try to strengthen what I say about those feelings in an alloy of emotion, thought, reason, possibly evidence, and probably sources.  I can't really do that when I express my love for my wife.  I know it's my subjective experience, I know that it's the way I feel, heck I even have an idea of some of the neurochemistry and cerebral circuitry that's powering and processing it, but still my love is real, and I want to let her know that.  I'm learning a lot as I learn how to say it.

Love Day By Day

My fiancée and I met with a friend of mine recently and in retelling how we met it was noted that the story wasn't, "love at first sight."  As deeply in love with my bride to be as I am it did cause me to wonder a bit.  I do think there was some initial attraction between us way back then, but ultimately I agree there was no falling in love head over heels upon laying eyes one on the other.  As I look back on our relationship it's grown over time, slowly and gradually.  We don't have love at first sight, but we have what I'm calling love day by day.

Love day by day is that understated love that's expressed between two folks consistently and sincerely.  It's us saying our daily "I love you"s and wanting to spend time with each other.  It's trying to find ways to make the other person happy.  I could go on, but don't wish to belabor readers with a sappy list.  Going back and reading over this I'm almost getting a little snide myself.

I would like to discuss the triangular theory of love, though.  It floats around in relationship advice, therapy, and books and promotes the idea of love primarly being made up of intimacy, passion, and commitment. Intimacy and commitment without passion is friendship, and other combinations can define other relationships.  I'm prone to a certain measure of emotional austerity and suspect it would be difficult for me to ever feel "love at first sight", but from the descriptions I believe it to be a magnificent burst of passion toward another.  A couple can feel this and then grow in intimacy and commitment to match the passion they feel, and I hope those who live giving their feelings greater quarter than I do do so.

That said, love day by day is based around commitment.  It's commitment that comes easily because we feel intimate and passionate about one another.  Commitment is a powerful concept, and - likely due to the aforementioned emotional austerity - I feel more important for a relationship than passion.  Being dedicated to another is what will allow one to break down their barriers and their pride and allow themselves to be vulnerable in the unnerving depths of intimacy.  I've always belived passion and physical affection in particular should represent a deeper commitment, and as such I've become more passionate toward my fiancée as I've committed more and more to her.  Commitment lasts beyond hurt feeling and dull days, and I'll gladly live without love at first sight, as long as I have love day by day.

Grow up

After working with kids at a summer camp for a little while I began to think about what maturity is. What is it that these kiddos lack that makes them kids. The answer I came up with was impulse control. The kiddos just weren't skilled enough in calming those emotional flare ups or dropping a silly argument. Hence, "Why'd you hit him?" "He said I didn't like marshmallows" or "Why're you so stupid, stars don't have rings. It's physically impossible" "Well, I dunno I'm gonna look anyway." "No, you're wrong, that'd dumb..." "Guys, quit fighting!" Of course in the discussion comes the inevitable acknowledgement: some adults don't have very good impulse control. I think we usually call these people jerks, annoying, downers, or some other of the vast collection of disparaging nomenclature. Controling your emotions is necessary for getting along well with others.
There is more rewards to emotional control than a good social life, though. It's a good life, and moreover, power to act for ourselves (free will, if you go for that term). Hear me out, Emotions are brought on by outside forces. A big scary bear makes us afraid. A bouquet of flowers makes us delighted. A new computer game makes us excited.
After those examples you might say, "but Devon, I like being delighted and excited. Me too, but it might not always be the best thing. If I buy portal (which I just did, finally, by the way) and I'm so excited I start playing and don't stop until the first week of school is over, effectively destroying any opportunity for academic achievement I have for the semester, that's obviously not good. I also loose the opportunity for other exciting experiences, such as learning and in the future obtaining a good job. If my shallow ex-girlfriend who cheated on me twice and continually criticized and spoke hurtfully towards me sent me flowers and I decide, "Oh she sent me flowers that's so nice I'm going to get back with her!" my net delight will be negative (I can feel myself getting back into physics student mode!). What if the flowers are indicative of a change of heart for this wanton woman, and renewal of relationship would do good for the both of us? Well, it still isn't smart for me to just run back. I might be happy and thinking the best of her, but wisdom dictates that I take care when reviving the connection we had. First, I don't know this is the case, and past experience indicates that it won't be good for me. Secondly, she may need me to be on guard. In reviving a relationship it would be sagely of me to go in stronger than before, ready for the maladies before heaped upon me, and setting boundaries and rules of conduct between us so that she knows how to improver herself around me and I am clear about what I want in our relationship. If learn to overcome these initial reactions and rule our feelings with our mind we can increase the happiness, peace, and whatever other good thing you want to put there (I was going to put joy, but it sounded too cute and trite "happiness peace and joy!").
So, let's be clear, emotions are good. Just like water is good. I see our emotional systems to be like indoor plumbing. There's a system of valves that we need to control, letting reason dictate the flow of each pipe. If we simply let each bubble over we'll quickly drown in our passing sentiments.