A friend reading a written word wants context; a stranger reading the same words wants content.
I recently posted a few quotes from Love in the Time of Cholera and I received a comment from a great friend asking for more detail as to why I found those quotes memorable. A few days later I spoke with my brother and he agreed; the quotes alone had little meaning to him. I see their point and understand: they know me and I love them for wanting context. It proves to me that they care not about the words, but about the author. I am glad to know that they fill an important place in my life and will continue to do so – I could only be so lucky.
If I don’t want my boss or some rando to read about my individual travails, then it doesn’t have a place on my blog. That type of discussion is best had over a pint or via a this-is-getting-long-my-cellphone-is-getting-warm-and-I’m-concerned-about-brain-cancer conversation. So let’s get together and I’ll give you some context! Beside the fact that I don’t think that online blogs are the place for journaling about personal matters; I recognize I could add by saying something to place myself within the quotes.
As I shared with my brother, the quotes did not necessarily represent a sentiment that directly relates to my current situation. What captured me when I came across them are the philosophical statements that they represent. When done well, works of fiction become a tremendous vehicle for philosophy. Fiction can simplify, give life, and make interesting fundamental statements of the human condition. What better, and more complicated, topic is there to discuss than love and relationship?
I read last night on a 60 Minutes piece that young people on average believe that adulthood begins at 26. Gulp! What does adulthood require? And since having turned 26, do I need to find it? As I briefly alluded to in my introduction to the quotes, the accelerating pairing of many of my peers that I noticed while reading Love has me asking the question: is it relationship? And my answer is no, and yes.
No.
The nervousness of each age group to find their “mates” is a strange phenomenon. In Costa Rica it seemed that every girl over the age of 17 already has a child. Maybe they aren’t married, but they have a child. This sequence seems backwards to me, but in Costa Rica my time has past. At 26, I’m a creepy old single guy maybe with an impediment or I’m looking for a single mom. In the US, this nervousness is not upon me. Yet. This is especially the case in a place like Steamboat where most in my age group are adventurous souls with experiences to be had prior to the responsibility of relationship and, god forbid!, children. So time is still on my side.
Yes. My heart has more rooms than a whorehouse.
I once had a feeling while flying back from New York City. I looked out the window of the plane. It was night. Probably somewhere over Ohio, the great bellwether of our nation, I saw the city lights and rural lights below. I was consumed with an immense nervous weight. How many people are out there to love? How can I find them? Spend time with them? Get to know them? Experience their love? Sure maybe before I go looking to every light below, I should start figuring out how to do a better job of expressing love to those around me now. But the questions hit me hard. Is this the worry that drives one to travel the world, to brave the empty promises of booze coaxed taverns, to acquire material wealth as bait? You either gotta go out and find it or you gotta get it to come to ya! So quick, kill yourself getting it or lose yourself looking – both lonely roads to companionship, no?The Sorrow of Companionship. Love was always love, anytime and anyplace, but it was more solid the closer it came to death
How do we release ourselves to companionship? And should we? Look around and you find people protecting themselves with loneliness using facades, barriers, and creating ego blocked connections. Try to pierce through and you might be a weirdo. Try to drop your own protective cloak: hard task. Maybe this tactic is there for needed protection. Or, maybe it holds you back. Is this filter specific to young people? When you are old and gray with a more full knowledge of yourself, can you plop right into a comfortable state of companionship? If a young person is to develop an old soul: having comforted himself in his skin, released the ego, and found happiness in the sorrow that comes with relationship, is this the cure for loneliness? Or a path to some unwanted love induced afflictions? Love’s Long Legs. It is incredible how one can be happy for so many years in the midst of so many squabbles, so many problems
My grandparents have been living together for over 60 years. I see older couples, especially those who afford me a window into their personal lives. Their petty differences seem to consume the relationship. Even among roommates, past and present, the same dynamic evolves. Petty things take over and a true depth of relationship drifts somewhere around, and maybe just beyond, the fence line. Is absolute loss the only way to rediscover the mutual need and desire, to thaw the layer of ice covering the ocean? You know that surface: it’s not for walking; it’s for treading. But I get it, drifting is exhausting – some solid footing probably saves a few extra years on the end. Recently I saw a list on Facebook put together by a friend, he entitled it “Men on Women.......the stuff we don't say”. Reading through the list, part of me wanted to puke. So trivial! Disappointed in my reaction, I brushed aside my elitism and saw the root of what he was saying. It is the same thing that I attempt to say here. And to me it’s good stuff.
I hope this isn’t trivial to you.
Maybe someday I can write some fiction so that it’s more interesting.
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