Definition of Love - Sadid Ahmed | Try.Fulfil

Definition of Love - Sadid Ahmed | Try.Fulfil

“I love you. I love you in every universe.

In every possible possibility, a mind can conjure and

even then, the infinite remains infinitely.” ~ Author

Definition of love, definition of love sadid ahmed, love definition, of love, of love summary
Definition of love, definition of love Sadid Ahmed.


To be human is to love. We have all been in love or have loved like someone or something. Parents, siblings, a pet or even an old gift deserves our love. And we say we really love them. Truly. But what’s actually real and does the truth in an impermanent universe contain any reality? In the grand scheme of things, can we simply call our feelings, real?

Everything in this universe is “made of” the same thing. Atoms. Yet you and I are so different. Different in how we look, behave, talk, or simply our lineages come from different parts of the world. But still, the reality of all things remains just the same. Words are made out of letters and speech is the art of vocalization. So, should we start inventing new words? Is it right to do that? Who would legalize our new word? Would our state of mind come into question? Say, for example, I started calling every green spectrum the color blue; people wouldn’t judge me but at what point they would start to do that? When does the “Stipulation” begin? Or Is it the beginning of madness?

Some of the stuff you’re about to read may sound alien to you. Not by intention, obviously. I have tried to expand upon some of the terms I have used in this paper or over-explained them when necessary. What I believe, is that you, my beautiful reader, shall come forth as a new person after reading the text. Any gaps in knowledge about the main topic of this text should become bandaged by the end of it. If you have any trouble understanding a word or a meaning then I’d suggest that you keep reading and avoid using a dictionary. Everything has been given proper context but you must be prepared for a journey you have probably never been a part of. Good luck!


Our Ontological Love

Ontology is the philosophy of existence. And tables or papers are what philosophers call ORDINARY OBJECTS. Ordinary objects are the plain old common-sense things we deal with every day: spoons, chairs, buckets, rocks, stuff like that. Their existence is as obvious as possible. Sure, this could all be a dream. Maybe a hallucination. Or a part of a simulated reality but underneath that skepticism, there’s a deeper ONTOLOGICAL question that we need to answer first.

Regardless of whether this spoon is made of real atoms or simulated atoms, is it really possible to be “made of” something? And if so then, is reality real? What does it mean to be IN love with somebody? What is love made of? All answers are in due time.


Origami (折り紙, is the art of folding papers. Rules are pretty simple. You cannot make a cut, use scissors or use glue to make your piece. Cranes are considered to be the most popular form of Origami there is. An origami crane AND a piece of paper. They are two different objects. Well, I’m kidding, of course, there’s really just one: the crane and the piece of paper are the same.

But what happens when I unfold the crane? Remains only a piece of paper. If the paper and the crane were truly identical, they would share everything in common. But clearly, they don’t: the paper can survive being unfolded, but the crane cannot. For two things that are the same, they sure are DIFFERENT. The paper merely constitutes a crane and the crane is not “made of paper” but resembles a transformative form of paper. It’s a one-to-one relationship and it’s called CONSTITUTION.

We can, however, decipher another kind of relationship between these two objects. It’s the other kind of “being made of”: our subatomic particles. The paper is made NOT just of one thing, but of sextillions of things. Things like our fundamental structure are made out of electrons, strings, and physical and virtual fields. This “Many-to-One” relationship is called COMPOSITION.

Philosophers call whatever it is that matter is ultimately composed of SIMPLES. A Simple is a thing that, unlike a piece of paper, has no parts. No substructure. Not even a top or bottom. They used to call it “atom” but even that has recently been changed into just “Simple”. It’s the idea of Contemporary Mereology.

Their belief is that there’s just a never-ending chain of the smaller and smaller substructures. Everything must be made or composed and these smaller and atom-less simples and these proper “atom-less” simples are called GUNK. Philosophers call such a reality a GUNKY universe.

And if the structure never ends in the other direction and everything turns out to be part of something bigger with no final complete composite, that’s what’s known as a JUNKY universe.

Point being, believing ordinary objects exist and are made up of smaller things is quite common. Everything that we have talked about so far can be summed up in two words: Ontological Reductionism.

It talks about a reality composed of a minimum number of substances or SIMPLES. It’s the metaphysical form of MONISM: the position that wholes are NOTHING MORE than THEIR PARTS.


Let’s go back to our paper and crane once again. We can clearly see that a crane and a paper are two very different objects with their own appointed properties. It seems like being MADE OF some things IS different than just BEING those things. So how do we differentiate the existence of things made out of the same “thing”? And What’s a “thing” anyway?

Let’s say that for something to exist is simply for there to be more than zero of it. Unicorns exist if we mean “are there any winged horses in works of fiction and mythology?”

And Unicorns do not exist if we mean, “are there any physical, flesh-and-blood winged horses that evolved on Earth through natural selection.”

“A form, flesh, blood, wings”: these are what we properties. By noticing and sharing properties, we can let each other know what to expect from things. And we all more or less agree on what things there are. We give names to stuff and if they catch on, we put them in dictionaries with the word “noun” next to them. But are all of these nouns an inventory of the universe or an inventory of things we MADE?

Suppose there’s a car in a garage. Let’s call it an “Incar”. What’s an incar? Well, an incar emerges at the threshold in a garage and collapses into nonexistence as the car leaves the garage. You might be thinking, “that’s not a thing. You just made that up. And it’s silly: “being in a garage” is just a property that a car can have. Stop trying to make incars a thing.”

Okay, so first of all. I didn’t make it up. American philosopher, a Ph.D holder, author of 70 books and papers and a Professor of Philosophy at Brandeis University in Massachusetts, Eli Hirsch talked about “Incars” in his book “The Concept of Identity”.

Here’s a tricky question: are islands more real than Incars? An incar might just be a relation between a car and a garage but an island is just a relation between land and some water. Does that make islands OBJECTIVELY more real than incars?

What if some extraterrestrials showed up and said that they thought dogs and trees composed “Trogs”? Would they be wrong? Could we convince them otherwise?

Ontological Realists believe that we could. That there really is a mind-independent answer to the question, “what is there?” People like Theodore Sider, an American philosopher specializing in metaphysics and philosophy of language, believe that the universe has “joints” and we can cut up reality into objectively real things by finding them.

Ontological Anti-Realists disagree. Their position is that the way we think about “things” is just one way to cut up reality. It’s a good one for us and our needs, but it’s not objectively more true than any other.

So, who’s right?

Peter Van Inwagen calls this the Special Composition question. In MATERIAL BEINGS he considers possible answers like maybe things compose something only when they’re in contact.

That’s a good thought, but it doesn’t explain how a BIKINI can be a thing. Or why two books are still just two books when one is stacked on top of the other. if a surgeon sewed us together and the skin healed with no seam and we shared the same blood supply, even then it would seem wrong to say that we’d become some new kind of animal. There’d still just be me and you. A heart breaks but it still keeps functioning as it were and nothing really changes except for a few chemical changes in our brain. Does that make a heartbreak any more real than an Island or an Incar?

The philosophy of parts and wholes is called MEREOLOGY and Mereological Universalism is the belief that there’s an answer to the special composition question and the answer is this: any assortment of stuff, no matter how strange or scattered across time and space composes a thing.

Let’s say there’s a person across the room and no matter how far you are from them, we can still call you two by a new name. I like this idea of composing a new thing regardless of time and space. Which makes me confident enough to say there’s a perfectly healthy relation between my left eye and you. This thing that is composed of my left and you is real and just because it has no name and no one’s ever talked about it before just shows a lack of interest on their parts. To aUniversalist, eliminating some composites but not others is just too arbitrary. We may as well accept them all.

Eliminativism is any belief that accepts some composites, but eliminates others. Peter Van Inwagen, for example, believes that there are no ordinary objects, no chairs or shirts or shoes. There can only be Simples or Atoms and a shoe is just a composite of atoms arrangedshoe-wise. Just because atoms are shaped to look like that and we named it a “Shoe” does not mean we should call it a “Shoe” because there isn't something else here called a shoe.

He goes even further with this idea. He thinks that because people believe they themselves exist, and he can’t see how something could believe it existed without existing in the first place to even think that, there must be people. “I think, therefore, I am. ~ René Descartes

So, is love real? Is anything real?

He mentions that because simples that are part of a living organism maintain the organism while shedding some members and gaining others. All while remaining individuated from other organisms, unlike, say, waves of water at the moment of collision. Clearly, simples in the act of a life must compose something. That position is ORAGANICISM.

Deflationism: the belief that this is all silly and that all of these positions are talking past each other: they all agree on what reality contains and they all believe that there are simples here and that those simples are arranged in a human, paper or a crane shape. So, do they believe in love? It has no real properties to call it an object nor does it act like a living organism.

Let’s begin with Over-Determination: If love really do exist, shouldn’t they be able to interact with us? The thing is, though, everything this alleged “Love” can do, can be described by referencing the behavior of simples that happen to come along. An account of the activities of every ATOM outside this thing leaves nothing for us to explain its existence. Composites are causally redundant.

Believing in love is like believing that, while yes, the chemical changes in our brains completely describes why we fall in love, there’s also a magical invisible substance called “Lovenesium” that comes out of our brain that does the same thing as the DopamineHormones or Norepinephrine does at the same time and if there was no Lovenesium we would fall the same, but there is Lovenesium. Love is more real than Lovenesium. Composites Over-Determine what happens in the world.

So, love IS real regardless of our belief since we can observe its affects but how much do we love? 17? 26? 500? A sextillion? How many atoms make up for “love”?

A lover walks in and declares “I love you so much”, “but how much?” she asks.

If you believe in composite objects, you MUST do this, right? After all, the composite exists. So, if your body contains, say, 100 sextillion atoms, then there are actually AT LEAST 100 sextillion and one thing here: all of these atoms and also a part we are calling “love”

That somehow did not feel right, right?

If I take a knife and scrape off a tiny part of a paper, is it still a paper? I think most of us would say yes. It would still be a paper even if I removed a tiny bit again. And again.

A series of tiny innocuous removals is called a SORITES SEQUENCE. While it seems, we must accept that each individual step doesn’t annihilate the paper but clearly, ENOUGH minute removals WILL eventually leave us with no paper. Nothing at all, in fact. So, clearly, there must be a point at which a tiny change DOES make a difference. Different people might give different answers as to where that line is but we could just stipulate the boundaries. We could define “paper” in some extremely precise way. If we did that, if we defined the shape, function and history that makes something A Paper so precisely that the even the smallest deviation would make or break its status as a Paper. Let’s say, we have done that but how could we know if we had done it right? Does a paper come with an instruction manual? Does anything?

There is absolutely no one who in their infinite wisdom can how many atoms does it take to make up for a paper or a piece of paper. Our stipulations are arbitrary in both nature and properties. Ordinary objects may be are unredeemable vague. But being vague may actually be a feature of ordinary objects.

Let’s go back to our lover problem. How much does the lover actually love her? Maybe that’s a wrong question to begin with and instead we should be asking “What is how much?”

For example, how many people is a crowd? 10 people standing together in a huge empty park might be more of a group, but 10 people standing further apart in a tiny waiting room will feel way more CROWDED. The fact that our terms depend on context, make it seem less and less like they’re describing THINGS and more and more like they’re pragmatic. That rather than telling what there is, they tell us what to expect.

Sorites Sequences can lead to many other problems, too. Like: the PROBLEM OF THE MANY.

If removing a tiny number of atoms from this paper still leaves me with a paper, how many paper are here?

I don’t even have to remove atoms for this to be a problem. All I have to do is try to define which atoms here are part of the paper and which aren’t. At the atomic level, there isn’t a definite boundary. Near the edge, it will be hard to tell whether a particular molecule is part of the moisture in the paper or part of the ambient humidity. Instead of there being a single paper here, it seems like reallythere are billions and billions of candidates for the paper. So, which one is the paper?

Suppose that we instead discard pieces of the paper and replace them with new, similar pieces. Now we are entering the world of paradoxes. Specifically, SHIP OF THESEUS paradox.

Suppose I buy a boat and name it as THESEUS. Over time, parts of the boat wear out and I replace them with brand new parts. After, say 10 years, I might realize that not a single part of my boat was part of the boat on the day I bought it. Do I now own a different boat? Have I now owned TWO boats?

But let’s say that someone has been following me all these years and has been picking up each old part I throw out and storing them in a warehouse. After I replaced all the original parts, this scavenger takes them and join them back the way they way there were 10 years ago.

Which boat is THESEUS? The one that I currently own or the one the scavenger possess? Or is it both?

If we conclude that ordinary objects don’t exist, the problems of Sorites, the Many, Theseus, Over-Determination, Deflationism all evaporate. If there are only simples and they never compose anything, then which one is the Ship of Theseus is easy to answer: it’s neither!

Neither are the boat and nothing ever was the boat. All that happened was that some simples got moved around.

There’s also no mystery as to which of the billions of paper candidates here is THE paper and the removal of no specific atoms will ever stop it from being a paper. Because there is no paper here and there never was. There are only “simples arranged paper-wise”.

The illusion that there ARE composites that can survive changes in parts is an artifact of our minds. It’s a helpful one that allows us to track certain properties and ignore others, but when taken seriously, it obviously isn’t really how the universe works. And that’s okay. We shouldn’t be embarrassed when we talk about love or papers.

Our words for ordinary objects really do refer to actual phenomena and therefore are more correct than believing that, love is made out of lovenesium.

But hold on. What does it mean “simples arranged paper wise”? The phrase “simples arranged paper-wise” just picks out these simples on my hand. There’s nothing else for that phrase to refer to.

There aren’t all of these simples and then ALSO some OTHER simples that are the simples arranged paper-wise. So, does that mean paper in “paper-wise” is a disguised plural? Does it refer to lots of things like the phrase “these books”? Because “these books” only commits us to the existence of this book and this book on my table. But not an additional single object that is called a “these books.” Simply put. The word “Paper” should refer to a single object just like “books” refers to some plural objects. But that’s not the case. Paper is not a single object. So what’s happening here?

Likewise, if “paper” just points to a whole bunch of things and not one of them is a paper. Sure, “Papers” exist if by “Paper” we mean a word for all these simples. But if by “Paper” we mean an actual object in the universe, there just aren’t any, my friend.

Except maybe there is no paper over-and-above the simples, but instead something happens when an assortment of simples is arranged into a paper-shape. Each simple member continues to be a single atom but COLLECTIVELY they all simultaneously BECOME one thing: a paper. So, it looks like papers cannot be identical to the parts they’re supposedly composed of. Interesting to read but does not completely explain the existence of paper in the first place because papers also can’t be DIFFERENT from their composite parts and that’s because there’s nothing else there. There’s nothing left for the existence of a paper to cause or explain.

To rescue papers from non-existence, we need to find a way to show that a paper is independent of its atoms and therefore distinct from them but not SO distinct that it’s impossibly over-and-above them. Which simply means the composite of the atoms COLLECTIVELY must constitute a paper. We need to find a way to make papers and therefore love ONTOLOGICALLY INNOCENT.

A Sortal is a term that tells us what a thing is in way that allows us to count how many there are AND know when there is or isn’t one. “Water” is not a sortal. If I told you there was water in my room and you asked, “how many waters?” I’d have to use a sortal to answer you. For example, “gallons of water.”

American Philosopher Amie Thomasson, argues that the neutral use of “thing” is meaningless when try to ask questions. Unless we use a “Sortal Condition”, any search for what things there are, will end in confusion. Not because there are no things, but because it hasn’t been made clear what conditions to apply when searching. For Thomasson, this means that what we find depends on what APPLICATION CONDITIONS we use.

For example, if I asked you if there were any small-sized, light-weight and flexible-according-to-human strength things here on my hands, “paper” would probably go on your list and no single other atom would. If an “Application Condition” is satisfied in its words, then the thing it describes exists.

So “PAPERS” exist and so does “LOVENESIUM”. If the application conditions, for one thing, are also sufficient for something else, then, if we find the first thing, we have found the other because its existence is entailed by meaning and logic alone.

So, a single piece of paper is not impossibly identical to some collection of many. Nor is it somehow over-and-above its parts. Instead, atoms arranged paper-wise merely logically ENTAILa paper. The entailment connects things which are naturally differentiated by distinct application conditions.

When we ask which one is the Ship of Theseus, a puzzle erupts because we’re being too neutral. We need to say what we mean by “Ship of Theseus”: If we mean the original parts, then it’s the one the scavenger made. Do we mean the thing registered to me by the boat authorities? Well then, it’s the second one. “But which is the REAL one” is an incomplete pseudo-question. The kind of question that are meant for discussing the nature of the question and opinions formed around it and the answer to which is irrelevant and vague by purpose.

When it comes to “Sorites Sequences”, I think we need to just stipulate where the boundary is. I don’t think there’s an objective answer provided by the universe as to exactly what is and isn’t a paper, but that doesn’t HAVE to mean that there aren’t any papers. We don’t have to question if love is or isn’t real nor do we need to search for lovenesium to be in love. To fall in love does not require extensive medical examination on which part of my brain is leaking hormones or dopamine. It exists because we say it is.

It can just mean that every single collection of simples is its own unique object independent of our minds and that we get to decide which we will call papers and which one lovenesium.

Vagueness comes from our minds and our language but there are no vague objects in the universe. We don’t have to believe in abstract concepts or any arbitrary notions about the universe but I do think we have to believe that the it is “Stipulated”. The universe, the reality runs on agreements and what we have decided we have or will have.

As Michael Jubien puts it, “there are no things, but as a consequence there are as many things as we like.”

Every cell and atoms in our body get replaced every seven to ten years. Does that mean i have more things in common with the person next to me instead of the “ME” ten years ago? Obviously not, right? Me of the previous years is still me with the same parents, siblings, hobbies, life and ideals but does that mean we are the same people? Or do i just resemble the person I once were with the same memories but even then, vague and broken memories. The past is no more real than a fictional tale. I know I am still the same me. I woke up in the same bed i slept last night and there is still a tiny possibility that most of my cells have died and got replaced by a whole bunch of new ones. My initial composition has literally been replaced.

However, let’s go back to our Origami Cranes once again. Perhaps our crane is not a physical thing in its own right, but a disturbance IN some paper. There is no material crane here, there is only some paper that is arranged “crane-wise”. But once we start entertaining that notion, we realize that nearly EVERYTHING we see and feel, all ordinary objects and even ourselves are Ontological Parasites. Their existence seems to require the existence of something ELSE: something that can HOST matters.

Michael Jubien calls our tendency to think, that what is true of a “paper”, is true of the material that is “papar-ing”: OBJECT FIXATION or PROPERTY REPRESSION.

If it looks like a paper, floats like a paper, and folds like a paper then it’s not a paper but it is arranged paper-wise. I think that the only concrete physical things in our universe are simples. And since our universe could be “Gunky”, the material world only contains stuff. And some of this stuff is “paper-ing”.

When a collection of properties are extremely thorough in telling us what to expect from some stuff, we tend to just go ahead and NOUN them: collapse them into a single word and believe it doesn’t just describe some stuff, but REFERS to it. I think we have an intuitive sense of the thoroughness of properties and this can be seen in how we use our adjectives.

“Big” can mean many things. A big diamond and big house are very different in sizes. “Blue” tells me a bit more about what to expect, but CHEESEBURGER, is too specific. So specific, in fact, that we call it a noun.

When we embrace the idea that cheeseburgers are not physical objects, but instead, exist as an abstract set of properties like juicy, warm, soft, and so on, the specter of “Ontological Paradox” dissipates. You and I are not physical objects either.

“Shadid-ing” means a bunch of different properties and most of them are very vague. They include things like, “knowing identity Shadid’s parents, doing things being more or less a certain height, having a roughly continuous relationship with the stuff that Shadid did yesterday and then there’s a Shadid today who’s “Shadid-ing” today while writing this paragraph and so. So which Shadid am I today?

Well, we’re able to lose parts and change and grow because we aren’t made of matter, we’re hosted by matter. There’s no thing that is you and no thing that is ME.

We are disturbances in stuff and none of it is us. We do not break hearts. We are the broken heart. And the universe performs.

“Was I Chuang Tzu dreaming I was a butterfly or am I now really a butterfly dreaming that I am Chuang Tzu?” ~ Chuang Tzu

~ Shadid Ahmed

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