I'm not sure how I got here. Stumbling along the etymology of love. Maybe because I want to be smitten, and in wanting to be smitten I wondered if I could smite. It turns out I can smite. You can smite too. And apparently we all smite quite violently in fact.
You see in the past participle of smite, lies the adjective of smitten... hefty with three definitions:
1 - struck, as with a hard blow
2 - grievously or disastrously stricken or afflicted
3 - very much in love
One of these things seems not like the others. One of these things just doesn't belong.
It struck me, excuse me, it smite me as funny how our language of love originates so violently. That from the same words as "He smitten thousands of men with his sword", we can suddenly be struck with love just as violently. Disastrously stricken with love. Slain by love. How romantic.
Moving backwards from smitten to 'smite' I realize that the verb, the action itself has no mention of love in it's definition:
1 - to strike or hit hard, with or as with the hand, stick, or other weapon
2 - to deliver or deal a blow, hit, etc by striking hard
3 - to strike down, injure, or slay
4 - to afflict or attack with deadly or disastrous effect
5 - to affect mentally or morally with a sudden pang
Who knew? That from this violent verb, after we are struck, slain, attacked with disastrous and sudden blows... we end up in love. Love is somehow the aftermath. Huh.
It seems that in language, just as in life, pain seems symbiotic to love. Dependent and maybe even defining it.
What I realized today, that for thousands and thousands of years as humans and hearts and language evolve... we've always known that we're fucked when it comes to love.
smart.
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