Fences.
Why is it that we raise so many fences around us to keep love out of our lives? I'm not just talking about love in the romantic way, though that's necessarily a part of it, but more in the general sense of the warmth you feel for another person when you know them intimately (again, not just in the sexual way).
A few months ago I made a conscious decision to take down the fences I had been putting up for a long time. I made myself and my love available to everybody. Or at least I hope I have. I hope I've not made a single person reading this, or those who can't, feel as though I wanted to deprive them of that.
More recently, and this time I am talking about the romantic or sexual kind of love, I made a conscious decision to welcome the opportunity to love another person more deeply than most others. In the land of sunshine and blue skies, you'd think the flood gates would open and all of this love would come rushing at me. Obviously that's not the case! I'm not that good-looking. But I have to say that I am surprised by the amount of solitude I see in other people. The various ways a lot of people have of sheltering themselves from others. I'm sure a lot of this has to do with vulnerability and the degree to which we're all comfortable with it. But man, it seems so contagious and epidemic.
Do people look you in the eye as they pass you on the street? Do you look at them? Or do you avert your gaze? Do you smile when you notice somebody noticing you, or do you look down, showing them your stoic side? Do you invite the interest of other people, or do you do you invite it only on your terms, for your needs?
I'm not saying we should all go around making as many loving connections as possible in the sexual/romantic sense, because certainly that's not healthy either.
But I do think what is symptomatic of one kind of love is also symptomatic of all the other kinds. Fewer meaningful romantic relationships lead to fewer meaningful relationships of any kind. The more we push one kind of love out, the more we push it all out. If we, as an American society (this problem is more a local one than a global one, from what I've seen), cannot be comfortable in intimacy of one kind, we dull our ability to be comfortable with other kinds of it.
And really, what kind of lasting satisfaction can you get from being that boy or that girl who attracts attention from others, only to ultimately shun it? If you have that ability, if you are graced with that kind of charisma through your appearance, your outlook, your thoughts, your activities, or whatever else, what good is it if you give it a deviant name and live your life trying to avoid it, unless you directly benefit from it? You can't benefit from it until you open yourself to others.
Maybe I just wish I lived in a world where people were more receptive. Where social anxieties weren't as prevalent. Where the well of prejudices and pre-assumptions wasn't as deep and plentiful. Where you didn't worry so much over first impressions, because you see the impermanence of them. I don't really think that's a utopian vision, but maybe it is.
A few months ago I made a conscious decision to take down the fences I had been putting up for a long time. I made myself and my love available to everybody. Or at least I hope I have. I hope I've not made a single person reading this, or those who can't, feel as though I wanted to deprive them of that.
More recently, and this time I am talking about the romantic or sexual kind of love, I made a conscious decision to welcome the opportunity to love another person more deeply than most others. In the land of sunshine and blue skies, you'd think the flood gates would open and all of this love would come rushing at me. Obviously that's not the case! I'm not that good-looking. But I have to say that I am surprised by the amount of solitude I see in other people. The various ways a lot of people have of sheltering themselves from others. I'm sure a lot of this has to do with vulnerability and the degree to which we're all comfortable with it. But man, it seems so contagious and epidemic.
Do people look you in the eye as they pass you on the street? Do you look at them? Or do you avert your gaze? Do you smile when you notice somebody noticing you, or do you look down, showing them your stoic side? Do you invite the interest of other people, or do you do you invite it only on your terms, for your needs?
I'm not saying we should all go around making as many loving connections as possible in the sexual/romantic sense, because certainly that's not healthy either.
But I do think what is symptomatic of one kind of love is also symptomatic of all the other kinds. Fewer meaningful romantic relationships lead to fewer meaningful relationships of any kind. The more we push one kind of love out, the more we push it all out. If we, as an American society (this problem is more a local one than a global one, from what I've seen), cannot be comfortable in intimacy of one kind, we dull our ability to be comfortable with other kinds of it.
And really, what kind of lasting satisfaction can you get from being that boy or that girl who attracts attention from others, only to ultimately shun it? If you have that ability, if you are graced with that kind of charisma through your appearance, your outlook, your thoughts, your activities, or whatever else, what good is it if you give it a deviant name and live your life trying to avoid it, unless you directly benefit from it? You can't benefit from it until you open yourself to others.
Maybe I just wish I lived in a world where people were more receptive. Where social anxieties weren't as prevalent. Where the well of prejudices and pre-assumptions wasn't as deep and plentiful. Where you didn't worry so much over first impressions, because you see the impermanence of them. I don't really think that's a utopian vision, but maybe it is.
Labels: Existence
posted by Anthony at 2:15 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Links to this post:
Create a Link
<< Home