Is it Valentine’s Day or the Sunday before Carnival?
Valentine’s smaltziness I can usually ignore. But today One Cosmos had to rub my nose right in it.
If humans were not made to love, then there would be no downside to living as a self-absorbed narcissist. But since we are, failure to love results in a slow psychic death, either an arid desiccation of the heart, or an icy, almost reptilian use of others for sensory pleasure or infantile mirroring. Bereavement (for one’s own death) results if one is lucky, but by then it might be too late, as it is for the sad and haunted subject of this song.
Yesterday, the moon was blue,
And every crazy day brought something new to do,
I used my magic age as if it were a wand,
And never saw the waste and emptiness beyond
In order to grow emotionally, one must be an open system in love with other human beings. And in order to grow spiritually, one must be an open system in relation to God.
Failure in either is worse than a tragedy. It’s a cosmic blunder. And the waste of a life
Long ago I figured out that I had no interest in a reptilian use of others for sensory pleasure. So, I’ll live in hope that God’s mercy extends to relief of arid desiccation of the heart. Plenty of men are unable or unwilling to love, too damaged, too fearful. I will never again enter a relationship with a man I don’t respect. That did not turn out so well for me. I don’t imagine myself switching teams, and the male population is thinning and little interested in crones.
Anyway, most days I can trust that somewhere I’ll find some relief from the icy chill. Perhaps in trying to find what God would have me to be, and doing it. For today, I’ve had a pleasant day until I got whacked by the reminders.
Hope springs eternal. Frances found Harry. Mother found Godfrey. These are love stories worth retelling. But today, I’m in flat out pity party mode. Got one of those funny hats and a noise maker? Maybe you can join me?
N.B. It’s been a year since Mother died, and that seems to be about what it takes for me to work through grief. Inexorably slow, but that’s my emotional digestive system. Most days the sun shines brightly and I’m starting to regain some desire to live.
February 15th, 2010 at 9:10 am
It would seem that one year is a standard grief period. It used to be considered right and proper to grieve for one year. Any actions considered by proper society unsuited to grief, say partying, would shock and dismay the establishment. Of course, everyone is individual and handles grief in their own way. Thank heavens that today we are allowed the leeway to do that. Nevertheless, it seems that there is something about that one year period that allows one to come to terms with the loss of a loved one. I am glad to year that you are seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. It is hard to keep on keeping on when grief weighs so heavy. Been there, done that and battling SAD at the same time doesn’t help. {{{{{Hugs}}}}}
February 15th, 2010 at 9:13 am
I’ve thought so much about Aunt Doris this time of year. My heart truly goes out to you. I still have her picture, smiling under her Wave of Happiness hat, smiling at me every day from my refrig door. I felt awful unearthing G’pa B’s special photo album from the trunk in my basement last week, knowing she’d be so delighted to spend time rifeling through the pages. Not to be.
February 15th, 2010 at 9:30 am
??Godfrey??