Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Can This Marriage Be Saved?
I bought a book the other day, a veritable bargain at two dollars (hardcover), the premise of which is that Americans are taught to work at love, that this work ethic destroys the very essence of the thing itself, and that marriage is a doomed prison, the opiate of the coupled masses. I'm not going to rant and rave about marriage and prisons (it's too early and too hot to have been drinking -- readers, fear not, the air-conditioner has been restored and I won't be stabbing myself now, a real consideration less than an hour ago when I was yelling to my companions, It's as hot as a chicken box! We're all going to broil like chickens!), but I did find the idea of working at love as anathema to it as thought-provoking. I work at almost everything in life -- nothing comes all that naturally to me except complaining, sitting on my ass, and spending money. I work out, work at teaching, work on my writing, and so on. I work myself into a tizzy and that's before I make it out the door each morning.
The debate about whether one can work at love reminds me of whether or not writing can be taught. I suppose what I would say is this -- confidence can be taught, strategy can be taught. Thank God some things can be learned! But desire can't be taught, not in love and not in writing and not by fricking Dr. Phil or Can This Marriage Be Saved? And desire it tough because although I may desire to write a story, that initial excitement is replaced with a deep horror when I understand how hard it will be to make a reader to understand another world. And I suppose that's the case with love as well. So we build our worlds, such as they are, and we try to make it work. Or not. Some are merely castles by the sea that come down with the first wave or a date at Red Lobster with some truly wretched teenage pranksters at the next table, making fun of your date's outfit. Which is not to your liking, not really, no matter how much you try and let it go and make it work.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"There are two ways to live your life -- one is as though nothing is a miracle, the other is as though everything is a miracle." Albert Einstein
Cocktail Hour
Drinking movie suggestion: Loverboy
Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Wednesday!
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7 comments:
I spent a good portion of my day in a cemetery. We thought seeking shelter inside the church would lessen the oppressive heat (so thick that it started to hang heavily overhead like the threat of rain) but inside it was even worse. I went into my first confessional sweating bullets- not from nerves but from the humidity and the broiler effect that you so described in your post.
Working at love is similar to working on climbing mount Everest in your underwear, it just doesn't, won't and, can't work.
although I have never been a great lover(erotic) and have been a fairly good friend (Phileo) to many people in the past half century + It is the Love that lasts (Aggape)that is the one love I have learned to be master of.
It is the transcendental love that allows one to be. Simply be love. Yet it is something that grows over many years, there is no love (Aggape) at first sight because there is none of the other two at first sight.
There can be friendships loving without sex and sex without friendship but there can be no Love of another without the first two to be th base of.
You can work at relationships and that you can do in your underwear especially if it's very hot out but that doesn't mean that the melding of two spirits into one is what will happen. This is Love (Aggape)the melding of spirits that makes the love eternal and in a human sense,life altering.
Two people, any two people, can make this happen if they both water the plant well with the sex and friendship first.
Remember peace first, for from it all good things grow, this is love is one of the good outgrowths of peace.
And no the road to this type of love is not smooth and easy sometimes there are speed bumps and other times mountains in the way but that overcoming as one is the growing of love.
Love can not be learned, like writing as we bloggers and authors write can not be taught. Journalism can be taught but the things of the heart can not be taught only walked towards.
Peace
mark
Hey Michelle!
First - that is one of my favorite all time quotes - one which I live by!
Next - you make a good point - one can only work at something (i.e. writing) if their is a 'natural' inkling as a foundation.
Hope you well - at least you're cooler! But, Michelle, you are cool even when you're hot!
Working at love means admitting you're wrong even though you know you're right ... and that's unnatural. As for being in prisons ... no comment.
There are two ways to look at this post--a wonderful example of writing, or as a miraculous example of writing...
Stole some keys for a sec to say hi and read the new.
I love writing so much I'll do anything for it right now. It took me a long time to be serious about it; now its all I have left, faith that if I can live another day I can write about getting there, or peel off some exaggerated love poem at the very freaking least. The desire was always there, ever since someone told me that what I heard was wrong and one should do something they love to do and writing was the best pursuit possible.
I have to get back to writing. Four days without something completely new... its judgemnet day's shadow looming large over me and I fear my own shadow will measure up better than the substance of me. Of course, it's a lot harder to write on stolen keys. Especially when you're compulsed to give them back sometime. Like when it's your sister's house and her computer.
catch you later, m. peace out
The debate about whether one can work at love reminds me of whether or not writing can be taught.
Hell no writing can't be taught. Even though there are schools and colleges that think they can teach you something. Screw them. Take what you have and run with it. Some will like it and some won't, and I really don't give a shit. :-)
So you like Hank Williams, cool. Cute blog, happy trails.
Norman Mailer's Nazi brother.
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