The Sand to My Pearl-more on unrequited love

Well, I wrote a few posts ago questioning unrequited love. Since then, I have learned much about myself and the good and bad of my patterns in dealing with the matters of my heart.

First, I had time away from "him"--enough time to allow me to realize that this may be the first time in my life when I have actually been fully aware of each step as I fell down the staircase into love. Previously, I had fallen in lust; I had awakened suddenly in love with no idea how I had gotten there; and, I had done the love at first sight thing (which, in the end, turned out to be lust at first sight...which I am sure "the love at first sight thing", far too often, is--we just mistake it for love because the feeling is so intense, so deep, so good!)

Second, I learned of why the word passion is rooted in the Latin for suffering. I had suffered in love before, but I had never ventured to understand why. I am not sure I actually ventured to understand why this time; this insight was more revelation than investigation.

Last, I learned that just because one loves another does not mean that the connection is a positive one. I learned that I can love, be tortured by love and walk away from the love while still carrying the blessing of loving that other warmly, deeply, beautifully in my heart. In the past I had chosen to stay until the love turned sour, mutated into ugliness.

Oh, and I also learned that just because a person does not do things to hurt you "on purpose" does not mean it is okay to be hurt. I learned that I can accept and forgive without staying close enough to be hurt again...and again. (It is so strange to me that some people can be so beautiful, yet so poisonous...like flowers.)

My most comfortable mode of expression is poetry. I think poems allow me to say things that would be ineffable it confined to conversation or prose. So, below, I offer my take on this ordeal in a poem. But, before the poetry, I would like to say this:

I tend to take full responsibility for the events in my life. I figure how I see things...experience things, feel about things...is a manifestation of the perspective I choose. A small analogy of this might be, "Happiness is a choice." However, I have also come to learn in this strange encounter with love that if another person sparks suffering in my life, that suffering is a result of something they do...their behavior. My choice lies in what I allow to touch me--no blame, no responsibility on anyone's part but my own.

I also think it is worth documenting here that, over the two years I have known this man, I have discovered him. I was blessed with the chance to be aware as each layer of his beauty came to light: his verve, his affinity for humanity, his desire to instill his own dreams in others, his charitable heart. I will always cherish his having been the catalyst for my discovery. I hope to be equally present the next time love comes my way. There is nothing more endearing than to watch another person grow more and more beautiful, from the inside out, right before your eyes.

The Poem:

The Sand to My Pearl

from Sand i learned falling
slowly
eyes wide open
seeing each layer pass
toward the depths of
in love

before i had only known
the quick plunge
into bed
even more quickly wed
then gone

Sand touched me so right
in all the wrong places

i knew love could be
torture
now i know how
to leave the torment
and carry the love
away

Sand scratched
all the old places
where wounds
never sealed
only scarred

Sand taught me to roll
old pain in that womb
where I grow myself
anew
to shine
from behind
wise eyes

the Sand now Pearl
is you


by blue 1/2008

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Image: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Image:PerlmuttAusst.jpg

My Truth About Quitting Smoking (or the moral war on smoking)

A good "new year" topic:

Okay...I have quit. But, as I am sure is true of many quitters, I find myself inexplicably drawn back toward what I know is more than a bad (i.e., deadly) habit.

I wonder if I'm drawn back toward smoking by its shear social unacceptability.
Am I drawn to smoke because I am "not supposed to" smoke?
That would be so typical of my perpetual adolescence.

Anyway, in the midst of pondering this issue I accidentally ran up on a blog post (via a link from one blog to another...sorry I don't remember the original blog I was reading...I will see if I can find that post and offer credit).

Here is the found post:

From Corporate-Alien Blog by George Lunt http://corp-alien.blogspot.com/2007_10_01_archive.html

Second Hand Smoke, A New Perspective

The take-no-prisoners war on smoking has been raging for several years. Local governments don't want to ban cigarettes entirely because of the revenues gained from taxing them. They've banned smoking in indoor public places, now they're hitting the outdoors. I don't smoke, so the fate of cigarettes will not affect me. I am worried that, when they've taken the issue as far as they can, they'll need to find something else to ban. Coffee, maybe?

The current argument to make the environment smoke-free, is to tell us how dangerous second hand smoke is? Frankly, I don't buy it. Here's my article containing my observations concerning smoking.

(I would also recommend reading the article by Mr. Lunt)

What I have to say on the issue

Like Mr. Lunt, I wonder what is next. Let's see, in the past decade we have had (in no particular order):

• The moral war on porn
• The moral war on drugs
• The moral war on sex education (if not sex itself)
• The moral war on homosexuality (longer than a decade)
  [Hooray for my friends who have made this one into a fashion statement & tv marketable life style!]
• Friends don't let friends drive drunk
  (I personally have no problem with this one...you?)
• The moral war on works of art and other creative expression
  (with the exception of popular music...am I j/k?...no rhetoricalness, that is a real question)
• The war on the homeless
  (am positive this one makes absolutely no sense, we could have built housing for what we've spent on jails and mental wards...sheesh)
• And now...The Moral War on Smoking

I guess we...society, humans...need something to get our gussies up about.

Maybe I am subconsciously drawn back toward suicide-by-smoking as a weapon against the apathy I feel creeping over me.

The next question is: Does the apathy come with aging...or cause it?