Vraiment. Letting someone in can mess you the hell up. They ask for
it, they don't ask for it - eventually if you stick around you become affected; eventually
you're seized.
Your ribs part.
Your heart breathes in a light freshness.
You risk the sword...
It's
that risk particularly that perplexes me. I try not to anticipate the sword, but I understand it; I'm willing to risk, even when it's coming. Isn't
this the beauty of it all? Is it not how we approach it in maturity and tenderness that matters most? Were I to say,
"you will be in love many times in this life, but most of them (perhaps all) will not last" would you throw off the burden of living beyond yourself, of giving it your all and say "no thanks, dude. Screw love."
Neil doesn't say "screw love," and that's why I'm revisiting this. He "hates love." He hates what it does to you. I didn't give him the credit first go-around because I wanted to (and still do) see love in ideal terms. I didn't want to hate it. But love is nasty. Messy. You get tangled and everything goes to shit. I still don't hate love, but a recent breakup got me approaching a truer understanding of its raw power.
Love strikes. We collide with someone. We grow beyond immediate connection. We bloom in the fires of another heart. And then it ends. Whether it's first spoken in the chest or on the lips, love's spell breaks, and you know when you've reached the line. Some ignore it and keep pushing. Some may force the hand and bail early. I've done both, but I try to live somewhere in the middle.
I've always been of the school that says its best to approach love with an open heart throughout, which is I guess why I quote The Prophet so readily. But an open heart is a hard effing thing to have all the time, Kahlil. You get engulfed, and openness hurts like whoa when it backfires. You retreat. You blame. You build quickly against another onslaught.
I, for one, long to love with wild abandon, knowing full well the facts: that people are broken; that we don't often know what we want or who we are, and that will leave us burned; that we are trying, but we're gonna fail others, fail ourselves; that love is fighting for room, and we can grow and learn when we give it and us room to breathe .... I am not there yet, neither fully "me" nor fully capable. I am, with each broken effort, moving closer though. I am fighting for "that brave and happy life."
Am I kidding myself? Is it wiser to simply hold off? To hunker down and ignore the beauty whirling around us? To play it safe and tap in only when the cards are stacked on our side? Or, am I approaching it the way we all should?
We all got insecurities. We all have pieces of ourselves we loathe - heavy pieces that make us fear the twilight, that keep us in bed in the morning, that run from open spaces. If we can do anything, we can approach those pieces. Learn their quirks. Love them, as we begin to love ourselves. For that's where it all starts.
Fight my friends, for your place in this world, for your loves. Let go when the time comes, but never fear the sword.
"Sometimes it's a form of love just to talk to somebody that you have nothing in common with and still be fascinated by their presence." - David Byrne
Neil doesn't say "screw love," and that's why I'm revisiting this. He "hates love." He hates what it does to you. I didn't give him the credit first go-around because I wanted to (and still do) see love in ideal terms. I didn't want to hate it. But love is nasty. Messy. You get tangled and everything goes to shit. I still don't hate love, but a recent breakup got me approaching a truer understanding of its raw power.
Love strikes. We collide with someone. We grow beyond immediate connection. We bloom in the fires of another heart. And then it ends. Whether it's first spoken in the chest or on the lips, love's spell breaks, and you know when you've reached the line. Some ignore it and keep pushing. Some may force the hand and bail early. I've done both, but I try to live somewhere in the middle.
I've always been of the school that says its best to approach love with an open heart throughout, which is I guess why I quote The Prophet so readily. But an open heart is a hard effing thing to have all the time, Kahlil. You get engulfed, and openness hurts like whoa when it backfires. You retreat. You blame. You build quickly against another onslaught.
I, for one, long to love with wild abandon, knowing full well the facts: that people are broken; that we don't often know what we want or who we are, and that will leave us burned; that we are trying, but we're gonna fail others, fail ourselves; that love is fighting for room, and we can grow and learn when we give it and us room to breathe .... I am not there yet, neither fully "me" nor fully capable. I am, with each broken effort, moving closer though. I am fighting for "that brave and happy life."
Am I kidding myself? Is it wiser to simply hold off? To hunker down and ignore the beauty whirling around us? To play it safe and tap in only when the cards are stacked on our side? Or, am I approaching it the way we all should?
We all got insecurities. We all have pieces of ourselves we loathe - heavy pieces that make us fear the twilight, that keep us in bed in the morning, that run from open spaces. If we can do anything, we can approach those pieces. Learn their quirks. Love them, as we begin to love ourselves. For that's where it all starts.
Fight my friends, for your place in this world, for your loves. Let go when the time comes, but never fear the sword.
"Sometimes it's a form of love just to talk to somebody that you have nothing in common with and still be fascinated by their presence." - David Byrne
