On the Subject of Love. ( A personal reflection. )
Posted: Thursday, December 17, 2009
by Kenny St.pierre
Due to a recent cognitive reflection, I've been thinking long and hard on the subject of love, and whether or not if I had lost the ideal of love between a man and a woman. Happily and sadly, I had indeed once experienced the power of love in all its greatness, but in my present state of mind I've come to realize it has eluded me ever since.
"To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer. To suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy then is to suffer. But suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness. I hope you're getting this down." - Woody Allen,
Yes, I remember love now. Everything seemed so right when I was with her. Everything made greater sense. My perception was vivid and lucid. Love made me feel as if I wanted to shake hands and hug the entire world then. But now that the thought of love has resurfaced within me, I suffer.
"Love is friendship set on fire." - unknown
I will describe one personally remarkable night in which this "friendship set on fire" has given me the best life-long memory and representation of what I understand love to be. It may be the one true moment and activity that clarifies my realization of love, and apparently it is destined to stay housed within my heart until my death.
"Love is the only sane and satisfactory answer to the problem of human existence." - Erich Fromm
I had called her at about 8:30pm one warm summer night with the blood of romance pumping soundly within my chest. I told her I was coming by to pick her up; she readily and excitedly agreed. To those who have experienced love, I know you understand when I say we were experiencing that fantastic time when lovers rarely have to exchange many words. Lovers understand that whatever the other has in mind it is usually to the benefit and interest of both. No need for explanations. Rarely do lovers question each other when there is that "air of trust" between them. Together there is that magic in everything they do. Undoubtedly there was that exceptional amount of confidence we had for each other then.
I went by her Mother's house and picked her up about nine. I then proceeded to drive to a nearby package store, bought a bottle of wine, and off we went to a destination only I knew and held at the time - for I had contemplated the event all that week and had the night planned like a blueprint. Just before we rolled away from the liquor store I popped the wine cork and handed the bottle to her.
" Where are we going?" she asked, following her words with a small hit of the wine.
" You'll see," I said in a voice that may have echoed in an unconscious whisper, "It's special, I really can't tell ya." She handed the bottle back to me. I took a good drink, smiled, and caressed her bare thigh with my right hand, steering wheel clutched in my left. Within a few miles we exited Fall River Massachusetts and entered into Westport via route 6. Roughly 8 miles later I exited 6 to Rt.88.
She surmised correctly and asked, "Are we headed for Horseneck Beach?"
" Yes we are hon!"
" But it's dark now!" she worried. "Aren't the gates locked?"
" Yes!" I said mildly . "But we can park the car at the gate and walk to the beach from there,"
" The car won't get towed?"
" Not to my knowledge. No one I know has ever gotten tagged or towed." I was more than willing to take the chance.
She didn't query anything more of me. Lovers know that probing too much only takes away from the beautiful mystery to come. Thus, she discontinued her inquiry, slid along the leather seat closer to me, and wrapped her graceful left arm around my neck. I heard the sound of her shoes fall soft to the floor of the vehicle.
"Love doesn't make the world go round, love is what makes the ride worthwhile." - Elizabeth Browning
Feeling good, I increased the volume on our station of choice, WBRU. The front windows were all the way down as far as the electronics allowed, and trees lined both sides of the highway. It felt wonderful to be alive! It seemed as though everyone of my senses were as acute as when I were a boy, and I know she was feeling it too. Together, our physical, mental, and emotional systems were in shock - we were in the midst of a phenomenon. An internal perpetual seismic disturbance that almost supersedes even ones own birth. We were obviously more conscious and appreciative of our lives during this time, and I hoped it would last forever.
I imagined at that moment that I was freshly extracted from another place - a dwelling where I had been at rest; motionless, and dormant. However, this new condition offered me vision, intelligence, knowledge, feelings, ideas, and a host of other human qualities I didn't know before. I, we, were experiencing the only thing that makes such attributes meaningful. Yes, it was love, and it had been bestowed upon us. I understand now what fascination it is for our senses when we experience this emotion.
As we got closer, the smell of ocean was clear and the taste of salt was upon our lips. In the quiet darkness we heard the distant roar of the Atlantic rushing in and away. The ocean, I mused, would be our orchestra. I then turned off the radio.
The huge brown Chrysler LeBaron I owned rolled to an eventual halt at the mouth of one of the locked A-framed steel gates. I handed her the bottle of wine and reached in the back seat for the folded blanket I had placed there when I had left my house. We got out, ducked under the gate, and moved hand in hand toward our (my) destination.
We traveled through one of the asphalt parking lots for a number of yards. We then crossed the sand dunes for numerous paces and before long we were there. The little building that I had spent the past week consciously dreaming about was standing before us. The building that had witnessed many love stories over the course of it's years, was about to play a physical role in ours.
Mind you, it is a simple building. Just a Pavilion with restrooms and concession area. But for a week I envisioned it as a prizewinning bed. I was about to make love on its roof with the only woman who could make me act silly enough to even think of it! To those who know the extreme might of love and what it can do - I know you'll relate when I say - it incessantly got me think and act deliriously about the next magical moment to come. I've come to understand now how when we humans are touched by love, it commands most all of our attention. And if or when we fail to recognize that fact, and neglect to answer its authority - it will choke our spirit!
"Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it, and it darts away." - Dorothy Parker
She was a bit confused when I stopped to observe the site. Looking back, I believe she assumed we were headed for sand along the water, but there I was flat-footed, looking around, taking mental notes.
" What are you doing Kenny?"
I held my index finger vertical to my mouth and exhaled softly as though someone could hear us. "Shhhhh!
Hold this," I whispered, as I held out the blanket for her to take.
Only a week earlier we had been at Horseneck beach for a few hours, denying a small area of sand its usually diet of sun. I had used the Pavilion's bathroom that Saturday afternoon, and when I exited - still drying my hands with paper towels a dispenser had provided - I unconsciously strayed to the rear of the building. It was there I noticed a number of empty 55 gallon drums; some standing upright, while others laid along the sand. Why they were there, or what purpose they served, I still don't know.
Frankly, I was born with a mind that never rest, and when it united with the intoxicating influence of passion, I inspected all sites for useful romantic ideas. Then, there I was, one week later, about to carry out my architectural and amatory design.
I paced forward, picked up one of the drums, and placed it against the building. Then I took a second drum and lifted it on top of the first.
" What are you doing?" She enquired, maybe doubting for the first time my sanity.
" Hold on dear - I'm not finished yet," I muttered.
I grabbed a third drum and placed it on top of the first two. Next I positioned a drum on the ground against the first set, then grabbed another and lifted it atop the one before. Finally, I seized the last drum I needed, and stood it on the ground in line against the other two columns. And there I had it - a 55 gallon steel drum staircase to the roof of the Pavilion.
I smiled and made eyes. She looked up. "You want me to climb up there?"
" Yes, and don't worry. I'm going to help you,"
She was wearing a one piece jean shorts-set where the arms are cut and hemmed at the shoulders, the buttons run down past the navel, and the shorts are rolled and cuffed high. Mmm Mmm she looked so sexy and beautiful! My ex is 5'9" and when she was young and thin she was absolutely stunning!
Next I made a ladder rung by intertwining my fingers in both hands, and then I leaned forward. She had left her shoes in the car making the task at hand so much easier. She slipped her bare right foot into my loop, and I ascended her upward to the first drum. From there I stood close enough for her to raise a foot to my shoulder to use as a step. She didn't hesitate. She pushed and stepped upward, and quickly stood at level two.
Now it was my turn. I easily hopped up onto the first drum, and turned to face her. Her knees, calves, and feet were at my eyes. She put the folded blanket down on the drum at her feet, and laid the bottle of wine upon the blanket. I could see she was with me on this now. She was sold on the romance this stairway to "heaven" was providing. She was on to everything I was thinking and feeling.
She undid the top three buttons of her suit, giggled, and asked, "Would you please help me Kenny? I really don't think I can do this alone."
There was nothing that could stop us now. We were hooked! We were goofy in love, and I was so turned on I wanted her right there.
"Without passion man is a mere latent force and possibility, like the flint which awaits the shock of the iron before it can give forth its spark."
She turned her back to me. I jumped up like a chimpanzee to the same drum on which she was standing. Next, I crouched, placed my hands to her buttocks, and lifted her upward for the last time. From the top drum she crawled onto the roof and out of sight she went. I grabbed the blanket and bottle, and made my way quickly behind.
And there we lay. A week's worth of personal mental romantic planning had finally culminated into a loving and incredible reality for the two of us. The moon and stars were electric. It felt almost as if we were surrounded by billions of silver lights darting and dancing in all things reflective; the black sky, the water, the wet sand, and within the hydroplane of our perspiration. And it wasn't just about the sex. No instead, it was that indescribable feeling only lovers know upon entry. That agreement which whispers, "Only you are allowed here."
It went on all night, with some breaks for star-gazing and to listen closer to a couple of far off voices. We were not alone.
We attempted to decipher what those remote happy expressions had to say. Indeed there were other lovers there. We could hear their faint laughter and indistinct splashing in the Atlantic coast further down the beach. I imagined that, like us, their love had also brought them closer to the natural elements - those atmospheric conditions we often times take for granted.
And that was it. That was the night I recall when I was truly in love!
" Private passions tire and exhaust themselves, public ones never."
I know it may not sound like much. Two lovers atop a roof. So what! Big deal!
But it was and always will be a big deal, and it's even a bigger deal for me now when I take into consideration many factors: I look at where I'm at now, where I have been, and where I hope to go. I contemplate the world as it is now and its history. I think about my children and what world they will come to know. I wonder if the world has forgotten the unique ability love has to bridge the gap between ignorance and reason - hate and compassion. Why isn't there more love in the world I ask myself? Why have we settled for less? Why are we quick to anger, yet slow to compliment? What do we seek that can take the place of love? Why do we humans spend enormous amounts of time pursuing happiness in things like, money, career, religion, drugs, intellectual studies, sex, T.V. etc., yet many of us spend virtually little time contemplating and/or drawing from our passionate experiences? Why don't we reflect more often about what love has done and can do for us? Why do I spend more time on the internet and reading newspapers; writing, talking, and debating about issues - yet I'll make little time for understanding and pursuing the power of love?
Why do I spend so much of my limited time concerning myself about global warming, Tiger Woods, Afghanistan, Iraq, ML baseball's steroid abuse, the economy, Bush, O'bama, Bin Laden, bailouts, taxes, etc. etc.? How did I become so disconnected from myself that I pay more attention to that which is outside of me than that which is within me? When did I start caring more about the affairs I can't control, and less about the things I can? What efforts have I made lately concerning love? What measures have I taken to recapture the essence of love? Besides the love I share with my kids, what new moments have I created with a woman that suggest I wish to leave this world better than the way I found it? Why don't I make more time to understand or act on the impulses of the man/woman love? Have I done all that I can, but others have failed me - or am I to blame?
I don't want just the sex anymore. I want love again! I don't care about what others think or are looking for if they're not in it for love. It's necessary for me that I exercise and unleash my passion once again. I am no longer desensitized by societies foolish demands! Where is my match I wonder?
The night on the Pavilion has reentered my psyche, and because of its reappearance I am in perpetual thought about finding that love again. Presently, I realize I have been lifting the wrong stones and looking in all the wrong places for the missing piece that I now know is the "real life." Love is real. To love is to live. The memory of the Pavilion is currently forcing me to reconsider my priorities. How I allowed myself to slip away from the exaltation of love; trying to replace it with "things," is beyond me. How did I allow myself to become so small?
"Love stretches your heart and makes you big inside." - Margaret Walker
Excuse me a moment while I shut off my television and computer. Forgive me if I don't meet the human standards of ambition; chasing after money like leaves in a hurricane. Grant me your patience if I'd rather not engage in some dream or activity like politics and religion while wasting my life away in those practices and debates. Forgive me while I place a call to a woman I have put off for some time because I apparently though she was of lesser importance than the things that never live up to their promise of happiness, cognizance, and personal sense of purpose.
"Love consists in this; that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other." - Rainer Maria Rilke
Above all else I want and NEED to love a woman again. I demand to experience that passion one more time before I die. I've had enough dates. I am vowing to myself now that I will be more conscious in my efforts at giving and receiving love. I will make greater efforts to be less cerebral and more sensitive. The world is already overloaded with intellectuals, geeks, Bible quotes, know it all's, theorist, war mongers, greedy and self-centered people. The world is overflowing with the insensitive and insensible.
I think I'll try something different. I think from this day on I will endeavor to seek and find a good woman, who together with me will think, understand, and live out most of our remaining moments practicing the principles of the man/woman relationship. Honestly, I don't think I ever really gave up on love. Instead, I believe I may have set my standards too high.
"In the final analysis, love is the only reflection of man's worth." - Bill Wundram, Iowa Quad Cities
"All you need is love. All you need is love.
All you need is love - love.
Love is all you need." John Lennon
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