After over a month I finally got to talk to my ex-girlfriend and had the chance to sort out just where it all went wrong. It was not easy but it was not as unpleasant as it might have been. But the important thing is that at last I have a real sense of closure.
She has moved on in life and now I must too. Even as I right this I am seeing some blue sky and sunshine for the first time in weeks and I can feel my spirits lift. Perhaps it is the universe saying "All is well and it will only get better."
So here is to the new day, the new life and renewed hope. There may be days when I struggle with the pain of rejection and loss but those will get fewer. I will go on because I must. Life has many things for me to discover and experience yet.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Sunday, January 21, 2007
What is this thing called love?
Is love a form of madness? I don't mean love for you kids or country though both of those can be taken to far. No, I mean when you love someone so much that you act in irrational ways. The poets have struggled with this for eons and despite our cynical postmodern world their words still can affect us profoundly.
Shakespeare wrote:
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Shakespeare wrote:
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
And:
Such is my love, to thee I so belong
That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.
Why then do we so desire love when we know it will demand of us that which we may not have within us to give? Perhaps there is within us some sense of incompleteness, some hunger for a part of us severed by a cruel fate even before our conception. If we have souls that come to us at our birth, then it may be that it is our souls that are haunted by this terrible defect, this longing for a joy so sweet as to overwhelm us and make us insentient .
And who would not want to love? Who despite the pain and agony of love despoiled or unrequited would truly desire to be stripped of any ability to love? Pascal writes of man and woman: "In spite of these wretchednesses he wants to be happy, he only wants to be happy and cannot not want to be happy." And in the same manner we all desire love for we cannot not want to love and be loved.
Is this madness? Perhaps, but if it is then pass the cup and I will drink a draught so deep as to drain it to the dregs.
Such is my love, to thee I so belong
That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.
Why then do we so desire love when we know it will demand of us that which we may not have within us to give? Perhaps there is within us some sense of incompleteness, some hunger for a part of us severed by a cruel fate even before our conception. If we have souls that come to us at our birth, then it may be that it is our souls that are haunted by this terrible defect, this longing for a joy so sweet as to overwhelm us and make us insentient .
And who would not want to love? Who despite the pain and agony of love despoiled or unrequited would truly desire to be stripped of any ability to love? Pascal writes of man and woman: "In spite of these wretchednesses he wants to be happy, he only wants to be happy and cannot not want to be happy." And in the same manner we all desire love for we cannot not want to love and be loved.
Is this madness? Perhaps, but if it is then pass the cup and I will drink a draught so deep as to drain it to the dregs.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
