We treat love as weather. Something that arrives, something we fall into, something that happens to us. bell hooks spent a book arguing that this is exactly why we are so bad at it.
Her case: love is a verb — the will to extend yourself so another person can grow. An act of will, intention and action, chosen daily.
Which makes it visible. If love is something we do, it can be seen in behaviour, and the ingredients are observable rather than vague: care, respect, trust, honesty, commitment.
It also settles an old argument. Love and abuse cannot coexist. "He loves her but he has a temper" describes a feeling that may well be real, doing none of the work love is supposed to do. One builds, respects, supports, helps you grow. The other controls, humiliates, creates fear, shrinks you.
Feelings arrive on their own. They can be intense, confusing, temporary, and none of it is under our control. The practice is.
Feelings arrive on their own. Love has to be committed, in the plural, every day — or it was only ever feeling.