It has always been a personal opinion that some of the greatest stories ever told have been about that strangely intoxicating “feeling” we call love. From the gospels of the Scriptures to even Bram Stoker’s Dracula, from Francisco Balagtas’ Florante at Laura to Haruki Murakami’s Sputnik Sweetheart, believe it or not, the drama, theatrics and ritual that go with love have permeated much of human literature to the point that it has, by and large, been quite a thorny, if not demanding, topic to launch upon. 

Its lavish and intricate history has all but made it completely hopeless to replicate save for a few verses here and there, allowing very little improvement in storylines. Be that as it may, novelists, poets and playwrights have proven that they have yet to exhaust love’s wells of twists and turns in this never ending urge of the Muses to paint this deeply enchanting emotion as the human heart wishes it to be.

Of the languages that had dared put shape and sinew to love, the old Greek has been the most illustrious: Eros, meaning sexual love; Philadelphia, brotherly love; and Agape, divine, unconditional love. Filipino, with its rich, Hispanic background, has likewise contributed much to the articulation of this idea: Pag-ibig, which speaks of desire; pagmamahal, of giving worth or value to the object of desire; pagsinta, which tantamount to worship; pag-irog, to treat one as a sweetheart; and pag-giliw, to treat the dalaga or Filipina maiden as darling, the joy of one’s life. That the word mahal is interchangeably used to mean expensive or costly speaks well enough of the weight and worth a love-struck person offers to the object of longing—as the biblical Song of Songs avers: “If one offered for love all the wealth of one’s house, it would be utterly scorned.”

Cien Sonetos De Amor of poet Pablo Neruda is probably the most poignant collection of love poems ever to grace the modern literary scene, next to the sonnets of William Shakespeare.

It rants and raves with little apology about the mystique and aura one associates with the strongest of emotions, which some say, is even more virile than hate or death. “Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is stronger than death, passion fiercer than the grave; Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it.”

Delving into love’s labyrinth, therefore, demands passions that burn the lines of being subversive. Love is insurgent, if one really thinks about it. And who better else can pen such an attribute but Filipinos: “O pagsintang labis ang kapangyarihan, sampung maga-ama iyong nasasaklaw; pag ikaw ang pumasok sa puso ninuman, hahamakin lahat, masunod ka lamang.”

Not that true, undying love is brash or uncivil, although some may mistakenly think it to be so. If anything, love, for the Filipino, is a chance at self-expression, at feeling remarkably sick to the core (as in the premise of Love in the Time of Cholera by Nobel Prize winner Gabriel Garcia Marquez), of knowing the sweet essences that go with pining for someone, while grabbing that rare chance—pristinely—at demonstrating that primeval instinct not to be alone. 

And like any other form of worship or adoration, it must have its rituals. 

As is love’s wont when it comes to rituals, the Filipino way of courtship is at once cautious, oftentimes reckless. The tuksuhan, ligawan, tampuhan, pagdidiga, pagpapakipot and pagsuyo are mere musical overtures that could lead up to something profligate, if not something downright shameless. But wouldn’t you say that love, being at the very soul insurgent, becomes even more electric as it is viewed by many as the sole justification for breaking the rules? Doesn’t the Good Book say as much, that love justifies all things, believes all things? To scour the memory for those untold moments when all things pale under the luster and glow of a beloved is an experience worth its weight in gold, indeed. 

The late great Adrian Cristobal said it best when he penned these words: “We are a nation of lovers in a way that the legendary Latins are not. Incurably romantic, we frown on the lover-boys and lover-girls; we are lovers in the troubadour sense, faithful to one besides, if at all.” And, if at all, love is a tragedy, it is only when some Filipinos perjure themselves in the pursuit of it; but never in the way love is portrayed on the silver screen. Love is probably the one solitary ideal that has always worn the white pristine veil, with little ruse that seeks to waive its good intentions. 

We have seen these time and again, in love stories portrayed by actors Nora Aunor and Tirso Cruz III, Vilma Santos and Edgar Mortis, Nida Blanca and Nestor de Villa, Rogelio de la Rosa and Carmen Rosales, Pancho Magalona and Tita Duran, Romnick Sarmienta and Sheryl Cruz and, of course, Sharon Cuneta and Gabby Concepcion. Theirs was a sickeningly sweet kind of affection marred only by the smallest flake of humanity, almost ubiquitous, at least, in the movies. Here, in the world of our own making, the Filipino lover is always at his romantic best and for good reason: Even with a forbidden aura, love for the Pinoy is always exclusive, personal, if not secret. Thus, the spirit and nature of our kundiman.

But such tender passion’s hold on the Filipino turns fiery at the very onset of threats to his peace and space. It is at this stage when love and devotion take on a new yet deeply familiar face—that of a patriot. Insurgent as it always is, love, now for country, makes for a good excuse to “rage against the dying of the light”, and to rise from an embattled state through “love” songs like Bayan ko and Pilipinas Kong Mahal. Listen closely to these songs for they bear the melody of love. And it’s in this that we should concern ourselves with flattery as no other people sing of their country in tones that express pagsinta sa Inang Bayan. Rizal himself has written about this level of love in his last poem Mi Ultimo Adios: “How sweet it is to fall that fullness you may acquire; to die to give you life, ‘neath your skies to expire, and in your mystic land to sleep through eternity.”

And if the words of the Scriptures are true, that to die for one’s friend is truly the measure of true love, then the country’s ang mamatay ng dahil sa’yo says it all. -end-