Falling in Love is Falling into Yourself and the Other

November 1, 2025 Love & Relationship No Comments

Falling in love can feel like a miracle, yet it’s also the most natural thing in the world. It’s about discovering depth within and between two people.

Through this shared openness, something timeless stirs — an event that keeps unfolding, even after it seems to end. In that space of mutual falling, one meets oneself, the other, and perhaps something eternal.

The moment of falling

There is a moment when falling in love feels as if the world has shifted ever so slightly. Everything remains the same, yet nothing is quite as it was. It’s not a decision, nor an act of will, but a happening — something that comes like a breeze through an open door. The heart recognizes a resonance it cannot explain.

In that moment, loneliness dissolves. Not because someone fills a void, but because two inner worlds touch. As Love is the Falling shows, the falling itself is the miracle — an unexpected surrender to depth. Here, the one and the other meet in a shared sense of wholeness that already existed, waiting.

Falling as a movement of depth

To fall in love is to fall inward — through layers of oneself, through the veil of the other, until depth meets depth. There is no ground here, no place to land. What holds both is mutual openness. That is the paradox: falling feels safe, not because one is caught, but because one is received.

This movement is ‘endless’ because there is no bottom to the inner landscape. Each new moment, each exchange, opens another door. The eternal appears not as time stretching forever, but as depth unfolding without end.

The wholeness that attracts

The attraction between two people often begins before words or understanding. Something deep recognizes itself. It is not halves seeking completion but wholes resonating. Plato’s myth from The Symposium speaks of ancient halves longing to reunite, yet its symbolism points to something inward: wholeness meeting wholeness through difference.

The other person carries a familiar strangeness — the part that is the same yet different. It is precisely that difference that invites growth. From this recognition arises the feeling of being ‘meant to be.’ Love, as Love — Romantic and Universal explores, is about two whole beings discovering more of themselves through each other.

The gift of love

When someone says “I love you,” it may truly mean, “I open myself to you and for you.” That openness is not a declaration of possession, but an act of respect. It says, “Here I am — available, transparent, sincere.” This is the gift of love.

To be loved, then, is not just to be admired or attended to. It is to be invited into openness — to be seen and allowed to see. The gift calls forth reciprocity without demand. Love and being loved fit into each other, like two movements of the same grace.

Mutual creation

When both are open, something new begins to exist between them. It is not owned by either — it belongs to both. Two streams meet and form a whirlpool, alive and self-renewing. Each movement feeds the other, creating an energy that neither could sustain alone.

This is why love often feels ‘meant to be.’ It is not fate that arranges it, but openness that allows it. Without this shared depth, two lives may run parallel forever. But with it, something co-created arises—something that keeps both in motion, together and individually.

Eros as symbol of depth

The physical meeting of lovers can reflect the same truth at another level. As in Eros in Unification, erotic union is not just bodily contact but the symbolic enactment of an already-present unity. The oceanic feeling of merging echoes a longing that is both ancient and profoundly human.

In that sense, foreplay is not what precedes love — it is love’s unfolding. Every gesture becomes a way of saying: “Do you want me? Do you need me? Do you love me?” The body remembers its own depth, and through sincerity, eros becomes a prayer of the flesh.

Love as shift in perception

When love enters the heart, it transforms how the world appears. As La Vie en Rose shows, it’s not that reality changes, but that one’s way of being present to it does. A beloved’s glance, a few ordinary words, can suddenly make everything luminous.

This shift is no illusion. It’s a widening of perception, where the ordinary becomes radiant because it is seen through openness. The beloved becomes a mirror in which one recognizes the beauty of existence itself. In such moments, love reveals truth, not fantasy.

The deep eternal

Falling in love touches something timeless. Even if the relationship changes, what was touched remains true — it cannot be undone. The eternal here is not duration but depth: the part of reality that does not vanish.

One falls into something eternal because depth itself is eternal. What is sincerely lived in love belongs to both forever. It becomes part of their inner landscapes. Even when apart, that resonance continues — alive, quiet, and indestructible.

Sovereign freedom

In Romeo and Juliet, the lovers fall inward and rise at the same time. Their love is not about possession but presence. They are whole from the start, needing nothing from each other yet giving everything.

Such love is sovereign because it is free. Jealousy cannot survive where openness reigns. It feels eternal not because it conquers death, but because it never clings. The world may call their story a tragedy, but in depth, it is a victory of unbroken clarity — a love beyond fear.

Simplicity and sincerity

In the end, the deepest truths of love are simple. A glance, a touch, a few everyday words can contain the universe if they are sincere. At this level, it no longer matters how the love is expressed. What matters is its authenticity.

Love that comes from sincerity carries gratitude and grace. It neither demands nor promises eternity. It is eternity, alive in the present. This is what The First Time, Ever I Saw Your Face calls the tears of recognition: the body’s way of saying, “Yes, this is real.”

The endless falling

Love never truly ends; it only changes its rhythm. When sincere, it becomes a continuous unfolding — an ever-deepening fall into oneself and the other. Each moment renews the eternal; each shared gaze says the same silent yes.

To fall in love is to participate in creation. It is to be part of something that grows through you and between you. What remains is wonder: two beings co-creating what neither could alone. Falling in love is, indeed, falling forever.