"If she was all you wanted and herself besides," asked Rydra, her head shaking between two names on the screen, "could you love her?"
Excerpt from Babel-17
by Samuel R. Delany
It seems to me that there are many ways of loving someone, but in my experience there are some that pop up frequently:
1. Because she's everything you wanted (or close enough)
Why else would you be with someone? Isn't this what we all strive for? The ideal? The person who treats us how we want to be treated, makes us feel better about life, is easy to look at and talk with, the best friend and lover, and the one who always has our back, no matter who else abandons us? This is the purely selfish part of love, but a necessary part. What we want matters, just as much as what the other person wants.
2. Because you understand her
Harder to express is how important it is to "get" the person you're with, whether they see it or not. To appreciate their sense of humor; to be able to make sense of their moods, their subtle facial expressions, and their words (or lack thereof); to feel a sense of enjoyment and relief because of how close this understanding makes you feel to them.
3. Because she grew on you
Despite perhaps being perplexed at first by the person you're with, their peculiarities begin to grow on you. They walk a certain way, laugh a certain way, sleep a certain way, and though you may always find these things fascinating, you eventually consider them less odd than necessary. Their way of being has grown on you to such an extent that you can't imagine not having them play a role in your life.
4. Because she's herself
Sometimes the trickiest aspect to loving someone is in doing so for whomever and whatever they are. This is where collisions happen, where personalities must navigate the same waters and find ways to moor. Accepting others when they're being themselves, and encouraging it, is in fact one kind of love, and perhaps the most difficult. It often requires giving up some of that selfishness, and just allowing yourself to adore the person you're with.
Showing posts with label what i want. Show all posts
Showing posts with label what i want. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 25, 2016
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Unbecoming
This year ... this year, I hope for less. I hope to be less, to tear down whatever it is that I've become and perhaps, in time, rebuild. This year, I want for only the smallest and simplest of enjoyments. Anything more would be too much.
I fear that I've become someone who's too negative, and I don't want to be that person. I want to bring relief to friends and family. I'd rather be a source of happiness for those that I care for. I want to make a point of noticing the things that I love more often than the things that I don't. I want to enjoy the littlest of things as much as I possibly can.
This year, I hope for less. But I think, in the end, it may be more fulfilling.
I fear that I've become someone who's too negative, and I don't want to be that person. I want to bring relief to friends and family. I'd rather be a source of happiness for those that I care for. I want to make a point of noticing the things that I love more often than the things that I don't. I want to enjoy the littlest of things as much as I possibly can.
This year, I hope for less. But I think, in the end, it may be more fulfilling.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Black & White
Today I learned a new word: Manichean. It's defined as the tendency to see things in black or white. There are those who would use this word to describe me.
I'm told that things are either good or bad for me. Either on or off. That it's always all or nothing. That there's no negotiating or compromising with me. If I can't have everything just so, then I'll forgo it altogether.
While it's true that I have these tendencies, I wouldn't describe them in such simple terms. I see things in vivid colors, and not just two. When I feel a certain way, that feeling has weight. It has substance. It has characteristics and properties that allow it to do things to my soul.
A feeling can be fashioned into many different weapons. A feeling can also become a vessel that transports me to different levels of bliss. Is there an in-between? Certainly. The in-between is like the din of everyday life. There is no such thing as silence. My poles are like the difference between elevator music and joyful laughter. Like wanting to puke my guts out versus hungering desperately for something. The in-between isn't necessarily a place of indifference -- but it's not something to strive for, either. It's a place void of strong desire. If all I meant to be was carefree, then the in-between is where I would go.
And honestly, sometimes I think that might be the way to go. Why not live in the gray twilight? It's certainly easier than either wanting or rejecting wants. Maybe just being accepting is the path to true happiness.
But that -- to me -- is like not wanting anything. And what kind of way is that to live?
Yes ... okay, I see how this could be construed as a black and white view. Manichean: That's me.
I'm told that things are either good or bad for me. Either on or off. That it's always all or nothing. That there's no negotiating or compromising with me. If I can't have everything just so, then I'll forgo it altogether.
While it's true that I have these tendencies, I wouldn't describe them in such simple terms. I see things in vivid colors, and not just two. When I feel a certain way, that feeling has weight. It has substance. It has characteristics and properties that allow it to do things to my soul.
A feeling can be fashioned into many different weapons. A feeling can also become a vessel that transports me to different levels of bliss. Is there an in-between? Certainly. The in-between is like the din of everyday life. There is no such thing as silence. My poles are like the difference between elevator music and joyful laughter. Like wanting to puke my guts out versus hungering desperately for something. The in-between isn't necessarily a place of indifference -- but it's not something to strive for, either. It's a place void of strong desire. If all I meant to be was carefree, then the in-between is where I would go.
And honestly, sometimes I think that might be the way to go. Why not live in the gray twilight? It's certainly easier than either wanting or rejecting wants. Maybe just being accepting is the path to true happiness.
But that -- to me -- is like not wanting anything. And what kind of way is that to live?
Yes ... okay, I see how this could be construed as a black and white view. Manichean: That's me.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
To Be Complete
Everyone is broken. Each of us has been shattered by life in some way or another, crushed or wounded beyond repair. A part of me is comforted by the broken parts in others. Somehow it helps to know that I'm not the only one, and I guess looking for those broken parts in others has become automatic for me. Rarely do I come across exceptions, and it's difficult to trust that it's not there in some people.
There is one couple whose broken spots I still haven't located. I've known my boss and his wife for more than eight years, for example, and they still seem complete in a way that others are not. I've seen them stressed and angry and I've seen them bicker, but they work it all out. Their lives are what normal should be. They're more normal than normal -- they're beyond normal, super-normal, perhaps. They're both funny and popular and they always turn the things they say into the right things, even when they're not. Their lives seem touched by fortune and untouched by whatever it is that breaks the rest of us. They don't let the world bother them too much. I must be missing something, though, even after all this time. I mean, is it possible for anyone to pretend that well, and for that long?
Being broken isn't necessarily a bad thing. It's just that I sometimes find myself wishing I were whole. The scars aren't what make us incomplete; it's the broken parts, the gaps and poorly glued-back-together pieces that ruin us. To be whole, I would have had to withstand the crushing forces, to beat them or, at the least, not surrender to them. I don't want to be fragmented. I want the choices I face to be clear. I want my intentions to be focused. I don't want to waver or hesitate at the precipices inside my broken self.
See, to be whole isn't to have it easier; it's to have certainty about who you are. With certainty comes a kind of power and freedom: The kind of power that allows you to be deliberate without faking it, and the kind of freedom that protects you from all of the wondering and questioning about potentials.
I imagine how much more straightforward life would be if I were whole. And then I wish there were a way to repair myself.
There is one couple whose broken spots I still haven't located. I've known my boss and his wife for more than eight years, for example, and they still seem complete in a way that others are not. I've seen them stressed and angry and I've seen them bicker, but they work it all out. Their lives are what normal should be. They're more normal than normal -- they're beyond normal, super-normal, perhaps. They're both funny and popular and they always turn the things they say into the right things, even when they're not. Their lives seem touched by fortune and untouched by whatever it is that breaks the rest of us. They don't let the world bother them too much. I must be missing something, though, even after all this time. I mean, is it possible for anyone to pretend that well, and for that long?
Being broken isn't necessarily a bad thing. It's just that I sometimes find myself wishing I were whole. The scars aren't what make us incomplete; it's the broken parts, the gaps and poorly glued-back-together pieces that ruin us. To be whole, I would have had to withstand the crushing forces, to beat them or, at the least, not surrender to them. I don't want to be fragmented. I want the choices I face to be clear. I want my intentions to be focused. I don't want to waver or hesitate at the precipices inside my broken self.
See, to be whole isn't to have it easier; it's to have certainty about who you are. With certainty comes a kind of power and freedom: The kind of power that allows you to be deliberate without faking it, and the kind of freedom that protects you from all of the wondering and questioning about potentials.
I imagine how much more straightforward life would be if I were whole. And then I wish there were a way to repair myself.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Noticing As They Go
A question that I often ask myself, and just as often fail to answer, is: What am I doing with my life? I recall that I never planned to live this way. If it was ever part of the plan, then it was supposed to be a small part, something to help get me to the place where I really wanted to be. Instead, I feel like I've fallen into the same trap that everyone falls into. I've become too comfortable with the rut that I'm in; you could even say that I'm fond of the rut.
And then I remember that this life is temporary, and it forces me to take a closer look at the rut I'm in. If I continue to cling to my current lifestyle, then the majority of my days will take the shape of the office that I sit in and the commute required for me to get there. My experiences will be mostly limited to whatever time I spend at the office desk, pounding out code fragments that are largely meaningless.
What if I were to say goodbye to this rut, though, and make drastic changes? What kinds of things would I do instead? Here are some scenarios that come to mind:
I would find myself a cheap house or cabin, a fixer-upper in a great location (on the beach, or beside a lake in a secluded spot in the mountains, etc.), something that I could buy with cash. I'd find myself some part-time work (manual labor or something creative, woodworking or farming or brewing beer) or work that I could do out of my own house. I'd write. Maybe my writing would become my work. I'd spend a lot of time outside, even if it was just reading in the hammock on my back porch. I'd swim. I'd boat, probably on something rickety and old. I'd keep a vegetable patch and maybe do some fishing. I'd mostly pretend that the rest of the world didn't exist, except for those times when I hopped in the car to take a road trip or to visit a local saloon or bookshop. Perhaps I'd occasionally teach a class at the community center, something about computers or literature. Sometimes, my road trips would have no definite end; I would just keep going from one small town to the next, stopping for a few days here and there whenever a place seemed particularly charming. Now and then, I'd drop in unexpectedly on friends and family.
Okay, honestly, I don't know if this dream scenario wouldn't end up being just another kind of rut.
I suppose the crux of the matter is that I don't want to be in a position to allow my days to slip by without my hardly noticing; I want to notice them going! I don't want to spend the majority of my life in service to something else unless it's something I care about intensely. I don't simply want to sustain my life from day to day; I want to be actively creating it! Every day.
So I guess the question is: Can I do this without making drastic changes?
And then I remember that this life is temporary, and it forces me to take a closer look at the rut I'm in. If I continue to cling to my current lifestyle, then the majority of my days will take the shape of the office that I sit in and the commute required for me to get there. My experiences will be mostly limited to whatever time I spend at the office desk, pounding out code fragments that are largely meaningless.
What if I were to say goodbye to this rut, though, and make drastic changes? What kinds of things would I do instead? Here are some scenarios that come to mind:
I would find myself a cheap house or cabin, a fixer-upper in a great location (on the beach, or beside a lake in a secluded spot in the mountains, etc.), something that I could buy with cash. I'd find myself some part-time work (manual labor or something creative, woodworking or farming or brewing beer) or work that I could do out of my own house. I'd write. Maybe my writing would become my work. I'd spend a lot of time outside, even if it was just reading in the hammock on my back porch. I'd swim. I'd boat, probably on something rickety and old. I'd keep a vegetable patch and maybe do some fishing. I'd mostly pretend that the rest of the world didn't exist, except for those times when I hopped in the car to take a road trip or to visit a local saloon or bookshop. Perhaps I'd occasionally teach a class at the community center, something about computers or literature. Sometimes, my road trips would have no definite end; I would just keep going from one small town to the next, stopping for a few days here and there whenever a place seemed particularly charming. Now and then, I'd drop in unexpectedly on friends and family.
Okay, honestly, I don't know if this dream scenario wouldn't end up being just another kind of rut.
I suppose the crux of the matter is that I don't want to be in a position to allow my days to slip by without my hardly noticing; I want to notice them going! I don't want to spend the majority of my life in service to something else unless it's something I care about intensely. I don't simply want to sustain my life from day to day; I want to be actively creating it! Every day.
So I guess the question is: Can I do this without making drastic changes?
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Mixed Feelings
Half of the time, I wish I were loved by someone who was worth loving back.
The other half of the time, I don't feel that I'm worth loving.
As someone who is observant of the nuances of language, you might notice that my own self-worth is non-existent in both of the statements above. There's only a faint hope for someone else's worth. The first statement seems to imply some self-worth, but it doesn't. What it implies is a wish for a better world.
If I were to rephrase these statements, I might say something like this: I don't deserve what I have, and no one else does either. But maybe there's someone who would.
The other half of the time, I don't feel that I'm worth loving.
As someone who is observant of the nuances of language, you might notice that my own self-worth is non-existent in both of the statements above. There's only a faint hope for someone else's worth. The first statement seems to imply some self-worth, but it doesn't. What it implies is a wish for a better world.
If I were to rephrase these statements, I might say something like this: I don't deserve what I have, and no one else does either. But maybe there's someone who would.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
I'd Rather Starve
Oftentimes, I wonder about the things that I settle for. Compromise is just a word for settling, right? I wonder why I accept things the way they are.
When I go out to eat and the food is hardly recognizable, I wonder why I don't go without it. When I cook a meal and fail to cook it well, I wonder why I go on eating it.
When I hang out with a friend and I'm let down by the way they've treated me, I wonder why I allow our relationship to pass as friendship. When I fail to be a good friend by own terms, I wonder why I allow anyone to go on associating with me.
When I conduct business with people who are unreliable and who are clearly unconcerned with my experience, I wonder why I continue giving them my business. When I rush through my own work as if I don't care, I wonder why anyone still does business with me.
When I read a book by someone who writes terribly, I wonder why I force myself to finish. When I write a story that doesn't even work for me, I wonder why I allow anyone to read it.
When I treat myself and the things I'm responsible for poorly, I wonder where my pride is. When I allow others to treat me poorly, I once again wonder where my pride is.
When I find myself wondering why I'm spending my time and my energy in the ways that I am, I know it's time to change something.
The truth is, I'm starving for some quality. And without a whole lot more quality, I'd rather starve. The fact that I go without it in so many ways already makes me wonder whether I have any pride left at all. There are many things that I should toss or let go. And other things need far more attention than I currently give them.
Some people think I'm too demanding. I think I'm not demanding enough. It's time for me to stop accepting things the way they are.
When I go out to eat and the food is hardly recognizable, I wonder why I don't go without it. When I cook a meal and fail to cook it well, I wonder why I go on eating it.
When I hang out with a friend and I'm let down by the way they've treated me, I wonder why I allow our relationship to pass as friendship. When I fail to be a good friend by own terms, I wonder why I allow anyone to go on associating with me.
When I conduct business with people who are unreliable and who are clearly unconcerned with my experience, I wonder why I continue giving them my business. When I rush through my own work as if I don't care, I wonder why anyone still does business with me.
When I read a book by someone who writes terribly, I wonder why I force myself to finish. When I write a story that doesn't even work for me, I wonder why I allow anyone to read it.
When I treat myself and the things I'm responsible for poorly, I wonder where my pride is. When I allow others to treat me poorly, I once again wonder where my pride is.
When I find myself wondering why I'm spending my time and my energy in the ways that I am, I know it's time to change something.
The truth is, I'm starving for some quality. And without a whole lot more quality, I'd rather starve. The fact that I go without it in so many ways already makes me wonder whether I have any pride left at all. There are many things that I should toss or let go. And other things need far more attention than I currently give them.
Some people think I'm too demanding. I think I'm not demanding enough. It's time for me to stop accepting things the way they are.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
On Being Lost
Have you ever felt like you've lost something important? Not your keys, or your wallet. Not even a work of art you've been slaving over for years. I mean something important: Something inside of you.
Some days, I feel like I've lost bits and pieces of myself somewhere along the way. I wish I could follow the crumbs I've been losing and trace my path back to where I once was. Back to some place where, even if I didn't know who I was, then, at the least, I could feel like myself.
I know it's not uncommon to be untrue to oneself at times. We say things and do things that don't match up to the types of people we envision ourselves being. But I think I've surpassed this. I feel unrecognizable to myself much of the time. I don't know where I'm headed, and, perhaps worse, I don't know why I'm headed there. If I could summon up a version of myself from many years ago, I'm not sure he would approve of my current situation and/or condition. I suspect he would lecture me about the folly of losing one's way. He would likely demand reparations.
If he were here, then I'd be able to see where I went astray. Then I could draw a straight line from me to him and guide myself back. That line would often intersect the route that I took to get here, which, plotted, would probably look like a tangled ball of yarn. A route whose heading no one could guess.
But I doubt going back is an option. And unravelling my route to determine where I'm headed seems equally improbable. Still, I'll have to figure this out, because one thing that I do know is that staying lost indefinitely isn't what I want. There is no meaning in being lost.
Some days, I feel like I've lost bits and pieces of myself somewhere along the way. I wish I could follow the crumbs I've been losing and trace my path back to where I once was. Back to some place where, even if I didn't know who I was, then, at the least, I could feel like myself.
I know it's not uncommon to be untrue to oneself at times. We say things and do things that don't match up to the types of people we envision ourselves being. But I think I've surpassed this. I feel unrecognizable to myself much of the time. I don't know where I'm headed, and, perhaps worse, I don't know why I'm headed there. If I could summon up a version of myself from many years ago, I'm not sure he would approve of my current situation and/or condition. I suspect he would lecture me about the folly of losing one's way. He would likely demand reparations.
If he were here, then I'd be able to see where I went astray. Then I could draw a straight line from me to him and guide myself back. That line would often intersect the route that I took to get here, which, plotted, would probably look like a tangled ball of yarn. A route whose heading no one could guess.
But I doubt going back is an option. And unravelling my route to determine where I'm headed seems equally improbable. Still, I'll have to figure this out, because one thing that I do know is that staying lost indefinitely isn't what I want. There is no meaning in being lost.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
While We Breathe, We Hope
For the past two years, while following the election process, there has been one constant on my mind: to know all the candidates well enough to be able to see who was most thoughtful. The biggest factor for me was this: to have someone running this country who was able to act wisely, who was strong enough to question the directions others would push him towards, and smart enough to make independent decisions not based on personal beliefs but on the basic principles of freedom. I've heard it said now and then throughout the race that candidates were sometimes preferred based on how relatable they were, how much they seemed to be in tune with us, or how similar they were to us. I can't understand that. Personally, I don't want someone running this country who's like me. I want someone running this country who's better than me. And by better, I mean wiser, more careful, more purposeful, more ambitious, more sturdy. Someone who is able to maintain a healthy balance between the freedoms we deserve and the security we need. Even when I'm hiring someone at work, I want someone who knows things that I don't, someone who can succeed where I struggle. What I don't want is a mere chum whom I can admire for impractical reasons. And this just for a co-worker. For a president, my demands are far higher. I don't think it's acceptable to settle for the mediocre. We've done that too often in the past, and it makes me wonder if we really take our country seriously. I not only want someone with a wonderful attitude, but also someone whom I can trust to govern me, not because he's brave and protective and sincere, but because he has demonstrated his respect for knowledge, for learning, and for understanding. If he's going to make decisions for me, decisions that will effect my life, I want to make sure it's not only his intentions that are good. I not only want him to be well-informed, but wise and able enough to investigate all of the options, to weigh them, not flippantly but deliberately.
In other words, I have high hopes and expectations for the leader of our country. And that's as it should be. Such a role isn't to be taken lightly.
Now that the election is over, I look forward to seeing some good plans put into place. I feel like the promise in this country has been on hold for quite a while, and now I'm anticipating finally seeing some progress. And, maybe, if we're lucky, something that we can truly be proud of.
In other words, I have high hopes and expectations for the leader of our country. And that's as it should be. Such a role isn't to be taken lightly.
Now that the election is over, I look forward to seeing some good plans put into place. I feel like the promise in this country has been on hold for quite a while, and now I'm anticipating finally seeing some progress. And, maybe, if we're lucky, something that we can truly be proud of.
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