Vachon Imagined

Today I spoke with a man who wanted to sell me an extended warranty for my new car. I listened politely, took down the information, and thanked him for his time. But the moment I told him I wasn’t interested, something shifted.

The warmth disappeared.

The attentiveness faded.

I was no longer the shiny object he hoped to win over. I had become, at least in my perception, an obstacle to move past.

Whether that was truly his intention is almost beside the point. The encounter reminded me of something deeply human: we often love not for what we can offer, but for what we hope to receive.

Not just in sales.

In friendships.

In romance.

In families.

In the countless exchanges that make up a life.

We flatter, seduce, impress, withdraw, perform, and sometimes even hide ourselves. We call it love, yet beneath it is often a quiet transaction: Will you give me what I need? Will you make me feel worthy? Will you choose me?

And because we operate from similar patterns, we find ourselves meeting versions of ourselves everywhere we go. The one seeking validation finds another seeking validation. The one chasing approval finds another doing the same.

This is not a condemnation of humanity.

It is simply part of our wiring.

The mind is a remarkable instrument, forever searching for security, belonging, and affection. No one escapes having a mind. No one walks through life untouched by its habits.

Yet there are questions available to us that are difficult for the ego and strangely gentle to the spirit:

Where do I love only for myself?

What do I do to gain affection, approval, or attention?

What am I afraid will happen if I don’t receive them?

And perhaps the deepest question of all:

What would remain if I stopped trying to get love and simply became an expression of it?

For love itself cannot be gained or lost.

Only the forms through which it appears come and go.

The praise comes and goes.

The attention comes and goes.

The relationships come and go.

The feelings come and go.

But the capacity to love remains.

And perhaps maturity is not learning how to get more love from the world.

Perhaps it is discovering the places where we have made love into a bargain, and gently releasing the contract.

For the moment love expects a return, it becomes a trade.

The moment it is given freely, it becomes something else entirely.