We are the ever living ghost of what once was
It's coincidental, perhaps more... no, certainly more, that I had dubbed this Valentine's Day's theme as "love lost". In my themed manner, I just wanted another purpose for the day, as I am, alone again, naturally.
But tonight I got an email from my Women in Pop Culture class that freed me from writing my paper this week, as well as class tomorrow.
So I read. I sat down, and left the tv alone, left my computer alone, and lit candles, and played my "Serenity" mix, and I read "The Mermaid Chair".
My mom recommended it, and of course she did. It's almost laughable in retrospect. Jessie is my mom. The things she chose are different, the husband, the monk, the solitude...my mom wants all three, and I don't know if she has what she wants.
"I am flawed if I'm not free", a line from Does He Love You? by rilo kiley, and my mom got quiet. "Maybe that's me" she said, and I heard in her voice the quiet questioning of a beautiful woman who was never tamed, but saw the strength that it took, and admired it.
And I sat here tonight, and I read, and read and read, and I haven't just read straight through a book in years. (not counting the 7th harry potter, he is the eternal exception.)
Somewhere near the end, I started crying. A combination of the previous phone call, of realizing the person I'm afraid of becoming, of discovering a small part of the person I want to be, and yearning, above all for love. or perhaps finding it, I'm not sure.
And I felt it, I felt how much love is lost in this world, constantly. Somewhere, someone lost love. Whether it's misplaced, evaporated, or stolen...it's out of reach. And the desperation and strength that both seem to come from such a monumental shift in one's universe.
My mom's marriage advice had been ringing in my head as I read. Over and over, her voice was coming through Jessie, and it almost scared me, how close they were.
"I felt amazed at the choosing one had to do, over and over, a million times daily -- choosing love, then choosing it again, how loving and being in love could be so different." --The Mermaid Chair
"There's something that makes you want to stay, when you know you have an out. When you know it's your choice, and you choose, every day, this one person." --My mom.
I believe in love, I do. I believe that you don't choose when it passes, and you can't choose when it crosses your path. 'Getting over it' is an illconceived notion by our modern quick fix mindset. I don't believe you can choose to wake up one day and not think about them. You don't get to choose, because you didn't choose love in the first place, it chose you. Events, moments of clarity, they help. They are the biggest first step, but you don't choose those either.
I doubt I'll ever be able to choose a side in the fate vs. freewill debate. I ride the fence precariously, as I do many things. But with love, I don't think you choose.
And there is uncertain beauty in saying those words, "I love you", in truth. It takes the most strength, and still it's so effortless, because there's nothing else you can say. Whether the feeling is returned, or the sentiment is left hanging, there's no turning back.
Even in the dark ache that follows an unreturned feeling, when you're alone, and chocolate is your best friend, there is a deep honesty, and even when you can only wrestle with yourself for saying those words, again, at least you said them. At least you were honest.
"I can't explain that, except to say there's release in knowing the truth no matter how anguishing it is. You come finally to the irreducable thing, and there's nothing left to do but pick it up and hold it. Then, at least, you can enter the severe mercy of acceptance" -- The Mermaid Chair.
My great fear, as I daily become more and more like my mom, is that I won't be able to choose between all three, the monk, the husband and the solitude as well. I will be locked in a tower, like Jessie, like Rapunzel, with all the hair and no one to climb it. That I will lose myself in marriage, that I will feel trapped. And the greater fear, that I let that first fear take hold, and never take on the challenge itself. That I won't choose choice. I won't choose love daily. It's a fear rooted in general anxiety about the perplexity of marriage, and the equally great uneasiness I feel as I begin to find a home in my mother's skin, believing her thoughts, and speaking them before she does, and some part of me, some genetically identical part of me will run from marriage. from that commitment. "commitment". committed.
And still, I believe in love. I believe in true love. I believe in soul mates, still, after all my cynicisms and anti-valentine's day rants. And I am not afraid that I won't find him, I'm afraid he doesn't exist.
So here's to love, and the hope that it finds its way, that it is not lost, it's taking its time. Just like the caterpillar in the cocoon. Forced to come at the wrong time, and it won't be a whole butterfly.
I do love.
But tonight I got an email from my Women in Pop Culture class that freed me from writing my paper this week, as well as class tomorrow.
So I read. I sat down, and left the tv alone, left my computer alone, and lit candles, and played my "Serenity" mix, and I read "The Mermaid Chair".
My mom recommended it, and of course she did. It's almost laughable in retrospect. Jessie is my mom. The things she chose are different, the husband, the monk, the solitude...my mom wants all three, and I don't know if she has what she wants.
"I am flawed if I'm not free", a line from Does He Love You? by rilo kiley, and my mom got quiet. "Maybe that's me" she said, and I heard in her voice the quiet questioning of a beautiful woman who was never tamed, but saw the strength that it took, and admired it.
And I sat here tonight, and I read, and read and read, and I haven't just read straight through a book in years. (not counting the 7th harry potter, he is the eternal exception.)
Somewhere near the end, I started crying. A combination of the previous phone call, of realizing the person I'm afraid of becoming, of discovering a small part of the person I want to be, and yearning, above all for love. or perhaps finding it, I'm not sure.
And I felt it, I felt how much love is lost in this world, constantly. Somewhere, someone lost love. Whether it's misplaced, evaporated, or stolen...it's out of reach. And the desperation and strength that both seem to come from such a monumental shift in one's universe.
My mom's marriage advice had been ringing in my head as I read. Over and over, her voice was coming through Jessie, and it almost scared me, how close they were.
"I felt amazed at the choosing one had to do, over and over, a million times daily -- choosing love, then choosing it again, how loving and being in love could be so different." --The Mermaid Chair
"There's something that makes you want to stay, when you know you have an out. When you know it's your choice, and you choose, every day, this one person." --My mom.
I believe in love, I do. I believe that you don't choose when it passes, and you can't choose when it crosses your path. 'Getting over it' is an illconceived notion by our modern quick fix mindset. I don't believe you can choose to wake up one day and not think about them. You don't get to choose, because you didn't choose love in the first place, it chose you. Events, moments of clarity, they help. They are the biggest first step, but you don't choose those either.
I doubt I'll ever be able to choose a side in the fate vs. freewill debate. I ride the fence precariously, as I do many things. But with love, I don't think you choose.
And there is uncertain beauty in saying those words, "I love you", in truth. It takes the most strength, and still it's so effortless, because there's nothing else you can say. Whether the feeling is returned, or the sentiment is left hanging, there's no turning back.
Even in the dark ache that follows an unreturned feeling, when you're alone, and chocolate is your best friend, there is a deep honesty, and even when you can only wrestle with yourself for saying those words, again, at least you said them. At least you were honest.
"I can't explain that, except to say there's release in knowing the truth no matter how anguishing it is. You come finally to the irreducable thing, and there's nothing left to do but pick it up and hold it. Then, at least, you can enter the severe mercy of acceptance" -- The Mermaid Chair.
My great fear, as I daily become more and more like my mom, is that I won't be able to choose between all three, the monk, the husband and the solitude as well. I will be locked in a tower, like Jessie, like Rapunzel, with all the hair and no one to climb it. That I will lose myself in marriage, that I will feel trapped. And the greater fear, that I let that first fear take hold, and never take on the challenge itself. That I won't choose choice. I won't choose love daily. It's a fear rooted in general anxiety about the perplexity of marriage, and the equally great uneasiness I feel as I begin to find a home in my mother's skin, believing her thoughts, and speaking them before she does, and some part of me, some genetically identical part of me will run from marriage. from that commitment. "commitment". committed.
And still, I believe in love. I believe in true love. I believe in soul mates, still, after all my cynicisms and anti-valentine's day rants. And I am not afraid that I won't find him, I'm afraid he doesn't exist.
So here's to love, and the hope that it finds its way, that it is not lost, it's taking its time. Just like the caterpillar in the cocoon. Forced to come at the wrong time, and it won't be a whole butterfly.
I do love.