Thanks for the link. After listening, I confess that I fail to understand what exactly you feel was the crux of our problem (or maybe, as I imagine that you might prefer it, my problem), and how it was explained by this talk. Of course you remember early on in our shared experience when you asserted something in the vein of the old saw that “Love is blind.” And I remember clearly replying to you that, “Love is not blind. It sees everything, and forgives.” This dovetails nicely with what I gathered was the central gist and point of the talk: That we need to be honest in our evaluation of love, especially as it pertains to the maintenance of an adult relationship. The message was not that we should reject it based upon an unrealistic view of it conceptually, but rather to see its role within the context of a larger whole.
I have never believed nor asserted that love is mono-dimensional, and that so-called “romantic” love sits atop a mountain of lesser aspects of its conception or reality. But one cannot accuse fairly a blind person for her inability to see, nor a deaf person her failure to hear, or impugn a legless man for his lack of running talents. Nothing of life within the boundaries of my meager experience has suggested anything less than the affirmation of love in all of its multifarious aspects as the single animating force that has the power to transform our world and ourselves into something more, something better, something enduring. Love is plenty large enough to include within its expansive boundaries the nearly limitless scope of the intellect as well as the heart.
The talk begins by encouraging first-time daters to explain each to the other what makes them crazy. I never hid from you, nor attempted to deceive you in any way, and demonstrated to you time and again what my version of “crazy” was. I was crazy enough to show you everything, right from the beginning, and through this very moment.
But all of this doesn’t matter. If, when two people observing the same painting simultaneously, arrive at different conclusions, it doesn’t alter the holistic aspect of the painting’s existence outside of their observations and conclusions, or negate each other’s viewpoint. I imagine the one to say, “The extraordinary use of complementary colors is the single overwhelming significance of it.” I imagine the other to assert that, “I feel that the entire work needs to be evaluated upon the basis of its underlying structure and composition.” Each can be equally right, without noticing or requiring that other equally valid conclusions that do not encompass their insights and speculations, are contained within and are exemplified by the work. Indeed, within a large canvas, one could point to a single small area as the only part of it worth discussing, to the exclusion of everything else, and probably make a good case for it. Even knowing the mind of the artist (insofar as it may be possible to accomplish) will not insure that one can understand fully the piece’s significance or intent.
One needn’t accept that gravity is real, in order to be victimized by its full effects when one falls. There is that old gem of a Zen Buddhist koan that asks, “If a tree falls in the forest and there is no one present to hear, has it made a sound?” Of course, the apparent contradiction between two seemingly obvious truths is the startling vehicle by which the conundrum (or the cognitive dissonance) of their juxtaposition forces the mind into satori, momentarily, in order to grant it a tantalizing taste of its own immortality, and thus the essential character of life itself.
But we know that the implied assumptions of the koan are essentially false; because over the centuries, science has revealed that certain physical laws governing specific aspects of our existence within our universe, are inalterable, and hold true whether or not we have a front row seat to their performance. This is the way in which the mathematical construct of calculus allows us to predict with extreme accuracy where a particular planetary body will be years in advance of its arrival at its predicted location.
I imagine a modern scientifically grounded Buddhist monk of the Zen persuasion would re-frame the question, and it would read as, “If a tree falls within an airless forest, and there is no one present, does it make a sound?” Of course, this effectively destroys the shock of contradiction, as any high school student knows that sound waves require the presence of dissolved gases in the atmosphere (the air about us) upon which to travel to anyone who might be listening. Shout though they will, and as loudly as they might, two people with perfect hearing standing side by side in an airless space, will never manage to hear each other.
And here I am reminded of the fascinating movie “Adaptation,” starring Nicholas Cage in the dual role of twin brothers. Toward the end of the movie, they are trapped at night hiding in a forest together, attempting to elude pursuers. They are both frightened, and disarmingly honest with each other, as they perceive the threat to their lives is real.
Their discussion turns to love, and involves an incident long ago in high school, when one brother overhears the other being vilified by two young women, and ostensibly out of earshot, one of whom was the object of the ridiculed brother’s affection. But the mocked brother does overhear the mean-spirited comments, and doesn’t care. Astonished, his brother asks him why. His paraphrased reply was that he loved the girl; that he owned his love, and that it was his to give, and her affair entirely to either accept it, or spurn it. He summarizes by saying, “I can love whoever I want,” and concludes with, “You are what you love, not what loves you.” Even the object of his love could not by the act of rejection diminish his gift.
This underscores the very real, intrinsic value of art, regardless of the reasons or motivations for its genesis, or its interpretation within a social context. It comprises a gift of insight and perspective, in a unique combination of materials that are offered in a particular way, at a specific point in time, without assumption, expectation, or demand. It is always down to us to offer either approval or condemnation. Art stands perpetually on its own, without a need for either. Love exists independently of our compulsion to examine and deconstruct it, though we may thoroughly enjoy trying to do so.
Once again, none of this matters. The truth of the dilemma regarding the two people shouting is both comical and deeply unnerving, as it underscores how truly isolated we are from each other, and perhaps this is what you wanted for me to realize about us. But I have always known that this is true.
As flawed human beings, we are constrained by the captive nature of our own consciousness and its boundaries to endlessly evaluate everything within its own scope, remaining eternally blind in a very real sense, to whatever else may exist outside of it. But let me assure you that whenever I said (or for that matter continue to say) “I love you,” it never was, is, or will be the expression of something as ephemeral, or transient, or insignificant as our diminished conception of romance leads some of us to believe.
Top of Page ▲