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The Love Controverst part III: This Time It's PERSONAL
Well, here I find myself in the position of having to follow up on everything that I presented to you last time. It's too big a task; I will fail to do it justice. But I've learned, here's a nice philosophical self-help soundbite for you, I've learned that among the things I can't do justice to are such activities as getting out of bed and talking to people. If I'm to live I must do things I cannot get right, even knowing in advance that I will fail.
Oh, look, there I was expressing my inadequacy to think of a response to all that and it came out - how jolly postmodern! Seriously, though... the same place, the same people, anything can be either heaven or hell. My arm (this object occurs to me because it's attached to my torso and also because it's among the prominent objects in my field of vision) is an intensely complex array of intricately interconnected cells which have evolved into this extraordinary pattern over a period of millions of years... the matter which these cells are made out of is mostly water - which means it has been, at various times, in clouds, and rivers, and oceans, and other people's bodies, other animal's bodies... tracking the histories of the molecules of my arm over even fifteen years would be more than a life's work... and yet, at the slightest inlclination of my will, this assemblage of millions upon millions of cells leaps into action and delicately and precisely - yet with soul-affirming vigour - picks up a cup and lifts it to my lips! What a miraculous thing it is - and it's merely the first thing I thought of! But to write all that, to think of that, to be willing to set down in words all those things, I had to love my arm. Love made it possible. Love makes life possible. Without love then my arm is a just a weight, a burden... I lie in bed and I can't get my arms to sit right without distracting me from my desire to sleep... I fall out of love with the world and I am in hell.
As I understand it, there's only one way to get off a surfboard, and that's to fall off. You can have a perfect run and at the end of it you fall off, like everyone else. (Everything I know about surfing comes from songs by the Beach Boys, who couldn't surf, and idly watching people from the beach, btw, so I could be wrong, please correct me if I am) But the thing is, in order to climb on the surfboard you have to trust it to hold you up. You can't be afraid of falling off, or thinking about falling off, you have to have faith in it... in spite of the fact that you logically know that, sooner or later, that faith will be betrayed. That's what I think love is - that's what I've decided. Soap-box is right - love is promising to be with someone forever, through whatever may come, no matter how bad it gets. Love is promising the impossible even as you know that it's impossible. And so I agree with elipsis, too - life's too short to hold back from telling people you love them for fear that they'll try to hold you to the contract later. There's no choice in the matter - love in impossible circumstances or nothing, buddy. And I agree with cista - love is a hopeful disguise for some other feeling, and sooner or later it all turns sour, and it might be better to admit it when the expiration date comes. But we've all got expiration dates on us, of course; if you didn't bother to do anything with the meantime because you knew what was coming, you'd already be there. Killing yourself to spite Death. And I agree with rushlight - it can be so hard, but you wouldn't choose to be without it.
I agree with everyone. And I love you all. :)
"There's nothing you can do that can't be done
There's nothing you can sing that can't be sung
There's nothing you can say but in the end it works out alright
It's easy" - The Beatles
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