I asked ChatGPT: Is “love” always transactional? That is, do we “love” only when some need of ours is being fulfilled in that relationship, be that “need” anything from physical to mental to intellectual to emotional to spiritual, and be that relationship between boyfriend and girlfriend, between husband and wife, between a parent and child, between siblings or relatives or friends or even Guru and Disciple? Talk about this in the context of what I wrote a few months back: “Don’t be in love; become love.”
ChatGPT answered:
This question goes straight to the nerve of what we usually mean when we say “love.”
If we are honest, most of what passes for love in daily life does have a transactional structure even when it does not feel calculated.
We love because
we are seen
we are soothed
we are desired
we are understood
we are protected
we are validated
we are guided
we are less alone
Whether the currency is physical intimacy, emotional safety, intellectual stimulation, spiritual reassurance, or social belonging, something in us is being met.
That is not cynical. It is human.
A child “loves” the parent who feeds, protects, and reassures.
A disciple “loves” the guru who offers meaning, certainty, or awakening.
Friends love those who listen, stand by, reflect us back kindly.
Partners love where desire, care, recognition, and shared becoming flow.
So yes, at the level of psychology and attachment, love is almost always need-linked.
But this is only the first layer of love.
Where the transaction ends
The problem arises not because love is transactional, but because we mistake transactional love for the whole truth of love.
Transactional love says:
“I love you because you give me something.”
When that “something” weakens—attention, attraction, admiration, obedience, usefulness—the love often collapses into resentment, distance, or withdrawal.
This is why relationships fracture when roles change.
When parents age.
When lovers grow.
When disciples outgrow teachers.
When friends no longer mirror who we think we are.
Transactional love cannot survive transformation.
“Don’t be in love; become love”
What you wrote months ago cuts through this illusion with quiet precision.
To be in love is a position.
To become love is a state of being.
Being in love still centers the self.
Becoming love dissolves the center.
When you become love, the question subtly shifts from:
“What am I receiving?”
to
“What is moving through me?”
This is not romantic idealism. It is existential maturity.
Becoming love does not mean you have no needs.
It means your ability to care is no longer dependent on those needs being met.
You can love without possession.
Care without control.
Stay present without demand.
Offer warmth without expecting permanence.
This is why becoming love feels threatening to the ego—it removes leverage.
Is even this “higher love” transactional?
At the deepest level, even becoming love may appear to carry a “reward”: peace, expansiveness, alignment, inner coherence.
But here is the distinction:
Transactional love seeks fulfillment from the other.
Becoming love expresses fullness from within.
The transaction dissolves because nothing is being negotiated.
Love stops being an exchange and becomes an orientation.
Like light does not bargain with what it illuminates.
Like fragrance does not negotiate with the air.
Across relationships
• Romantic love
Transactional love asks: “Do you still choose me?”
Becoming love says: “I choose to meet this moment honestly.”
• Parent-child
Transactional love says: “Be who I need you to be.”
Becoming love says: “Be who you are becoming.”
• Friendship
Transactional love says: “Stay familiar.”
Becoming love says: “Stay true.”
• Guru–disciple
Transactional love says: “Lead me.”
Becoming love says: “Point, then let me walk.”
The uncomfortable truth
Most people cannot live in “becoming love” all the time.
And that is okay.
We move between layers.
But suffering begins when we pretend our transactional loves are unconditional, or when we shame ourselves for having needs while secretly organizing our relationships around them.
Your line—“Don’t be in love; become love”—is not a moral command.
It is an invitation to awareness.
It asks:
Can you see where love is bargaining?
Can you see where it is afraid?
Can you see where it is free?
And perhaps most importantly:
Can you allow love to mature, instead of demanding that it remain comforting?
That is where love stops being something we have and becomes something we are.
Know Thyself 
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