i’m going to ramble. sorry, but that’s the truth.
once again, i’m stuck in a haze of my own making. it’s been so often these past few months that i find myself in a fugue of alcohol, work and exhaustion.
it’s the only way i can sleep at night.
but the point of this is not to bitch. hell, it doesn’t even reallly have a cohesive point, but rather is an entry point into my efforts at blogging much more.
because, honestly, i feel like i need to write, force myself to do so, or i will go insane. or more so than i already am.
i wonder if anyone reads this. i do all the time. but such is the life of a somewhat cocky young male.
but to get back to the point, this blog post is about love.
then again, everything i write, ever, has been and always will be about love. no matter how sappy that may sound. divorce my conception of love from any hallmark card, saccharine sweet amalgamation thereof. rather, my love, is, as always, born of tears and moonlight, heartache and last breaths. such is and always will be my fate.
love is suffering.
or rather, love is the willingness, the degree to which, one is willing to suffer pain for another. because love is always painful. without suffering, it is meaningless. a mother, a father, they are always willing to suffer for their children, if one can ever deem them good parents.
misery shared is misery halved, or so the wise men say. it is the job of one who loves another to take upon themselves the burden of another’s adversity, and make it their own. because in so doing, they lessen the weight upon the object of their affection.
i’ve always loved with a strength beyond my small stature. is it any wonder then, that i know pain just as well?
i’m a depressive. have been all my life. always will be.
but i hope, pray, wish, that someday, i will be able to overcome the Darkness that stalks me in the night… but will nevertheless retain my capacity for love.
because without great suffering, without building that threshold for agonizing punsishment, a person cannot, and will not, ever be able to truly love another person. such is the fucked up heart of love.
oh and btw, thank you for all those who email me, comment here or hit me up on facebook to tell me they read the blog, and they want me to continue.
you allow me the belief that my work actually matters, that my thoughts count for something.
you keep me sane.
thank you.
i’m not so sure i agree. suffering is certainly the necessary, but not the sufficient.
if it was the case that love was just suffering, then jail, war, and that time i got locked up in the hospital involuntarily for 72 hours would all somehow invoke love. but they don’t. in fact, those are the breeding grounds for terror, drug abuse, murder, violence, and all sort of ugly, unlovely things.
the love is in the letters from loved ones, the care packages, the people who visit. it’s in the hundreds of peaceful days in between, in the thousands of dinner parties, and the nonsensical emails about nothing sent back and forth during boring days at work. it’s in the ability to help me laugh off and move on from the fact that i quit yet another job and am moving into my perhaps 5th career choice (hell, there’s so many we’ve lost track– but everyone loves me and supports me enough not to count!) i’m walking the sappy line here, but i believe that this is where we find love, sappy or not.
i do agree that there is a need in us all to become less sensitive to certain types of pain, especially when it comes to love. but that’s not as complicated as we make it sound, i think. to me, it’s become more about turning off the life story that my folks wrote for me and reminding myself that i’m okay, no matter who i am. and that their criticisms are just them doing the best they know how. also, never taking heartbreak personally. after all, it’s happening as we speak to millions of people across the world, and has been happening for centuries. there’s nothing special or epic about my breakups, and i’ll move on eventually (which has proven true for me thus far).
my dear, if your definition of love is suffering and your hope is to retain your capacity for love, then it sounds like you are holding on to a desire to suffer. if it’s true, then i don’t want to stop you. but if it’s not, then as far as love goes, my very humble opinion is that talking and thinking on it too much complicates and very simple and natural emotion. we know that biologically feelings pre-date thoughts. maybe — just once in a while– try to trust the oxytocin instead of thinking things through all the time and see what happens. if you like it, you can do it all the time!
I saw grief drinking a cup of sorrow and called out, “It tastes sweet, does it not?” “You’ve caught me,” grief answered, “and you’ve ruined my business, how can I sell sorrow when you know it’s a blessing?” – Rumi
Hows that for RUMInations?