I have visualized love as a flame: which can be as bright as a campfire or as dull as dying embers. To produce fire, there must be some sort of friction — an interaction with another being that causes a spark. It may be small and die out easily; or it could be ignited into a small flame, enough to generate light and heat. I think the same is true with love. We find people to connect with and sometimes, we click. Other times, we realize there is not enough attraction to sustain the connection. At first, we get excited with this new connection with another that the small flame blazes into a fire. Depending on the passion, intimacy, attraction, and a multitude of other factors, the fire can range from as small as a candle light, to something as bright as a campfire. But what is sustainable is the soft ember of a coal — the steady and predictable certainty of its warmth and light. Similarly, I was never a fan of the passionate kind of love that burns as bright as a bonfire. I have an unexplainable dread about it. I find it scary and difficult to manage. But I find the soft embers comforting; like a tender affection for someone you have manged to connect with. With just some effort to fan the embers, it can easily burn brighter into a flame. Like a steady plateau of a comfortable relationship, there is a sense of security that the love is there, and it is easy to sustain the warmth required by it. And should the embers dim and seem to be dying, we should just put in a little more effort to fan the flame, enough to keep it going. Given time, the effort to fan this ember should be enough to revive it into a glowing ember once more.