Revisited...

I wrote this a while ago but seems relevant again...

An open letter... first attempt... perhaps of many...

I am sorry... I am sorry that I cannot, for all my attempts and intentions, love you. I do not mean love you with my heart, for that is without question, and never in doubt. Instead I am sorry that I seem unable to love you with the rest of me. I am sorry for the expression of my love. I am sorry for always seeming to get it wrong. I am sorry that I cannot express with my mouth and with my hands that which is so strong and clear in my heart, that which I feel so strongly that I fear I will explode if the expression of it is not at least attempted. And there, perhaps, is the problem. I am forced to try to express a flood with a faucet. I am sorry that I don't know how to love you, how to show you, how to offer proof. I wish that my heart was transparent so that you could look directly inside and see that which is contained therein. That all the jumbled, myriad thoughts and feelings could be expressed as a laser, clear, focused, direct and true, slicing through all the noise, and all the interpretations. Cutting direct from my heart to yours, forming a link of true expression, with all static and interference eliminated in its wake.

For now this is all that I have, and all I can do is beg your forgiveness and offer the promise that I will keep trying, I will keep loving and I will keep hoping that one day I will get it right.

Sincerely,

brad

Driving home from work today (listening to Wilco) I was reminded of this letter that I wrote (but only published here). I once again find myself unsure of myself. I am lost. In my attempts to be understood and known, I have come up short yet again, or worse. The thing that I seem completely inept at expressing is that I say things with the knowledge that I hold nothing against you. You have not injured me, nor do I hold you responsible for my, MY, feelings. The truth is that I don't know if there is anything that you could do to change my mind about you. So when I speak, I speak in that knowledge and perhaps with a sense of freedom that is not earned because the entire picture that I have of you is not shared or known to you. You see what I have said, and feel in your own heart a reaction to that. How could you do anything accept that. You don't know me, not through and through. (And how could you as I have shown yet again that any attempts that I make at an expression of my own (often skewed by my limited knowledge of you) feelings do not come in the context of my entire range of thoughts. My head swims with even the thought of that statement.

And yet, without expression starting somewhere, even imperfect, even minute, there isn't really hope for the future. And it was in this spirit that I express myself, hoping that the person that hears me will have that net of safety to catch the pieces because the pieces are parts of me and in catching them you will catch me. That they will have the same net that I use to catch them, any small, shattered, broken, beautiful, soiled or pure piece.

For those of you that haven't met Petrarch...

It was the day the sun himself grew pale

with grieving for his Maker-I was seized

and made no effort to defend myself;

your lovely eyes had held me and bound me, Lady.

It didn't seem a time to be on guard

against Love's blows, so I went confident

and fearless on my way. My troubles started

amid the universal sense of woe.

Love found me wholly undefended, with

the way from eyes to heart completely open,

eyes that are now the conduit for tears.

He got no glory by it; I was helpless.

And he let you escape with no attack

when you were well defended, fully armed.

-Petrarch's blog

April 6, 1327

This bad boy knocked me over the first time I read him years ago... I like the idea of him having a blog of sorts... as well as the thought of introducing my readers to some scarcely known masterpieces... perhaps making some not so subtle comparisons... and maybe it helps me to read something like this and know that I am not the only one.

Sometimes I think I need to read happier fare... or at least not go out as often where people can see me...

Damn...

1 Corinthians 13:4-9 (Amplified)

⁴Love endures long and is patient and kind; love never is envious nor boils over with jealousy, is not boastful or vainglorious, does not display itself haughtily.

⁵It is not conceited (arrogant and inflated with pride); it is not rude (unmannerly) and does not act unbecomingly. Love (God's love in us) does not insist on its own rights or its own way, for it is not self-seeking; it is not touchy or fretful or resentful; it takes no account of the evil done to it [it pays no attention to a suffered wrong].

⁶It does not rejoice at injustice and unrighteousness, but rejoices when right and truth prevail.

⁷Love bears up under anything and everything that comes, is ever ready to believe the best of every person, its hopes are fadeless under all circumstances, and it endures everything [without weakening].

⁸Love never fails [never fades out or becomes obsolete or comes to an end]. As for prophecy (the gift of interpreting the divine will and purpose), it will be fulfilled and pass away; as for tongues, they will be destroyed and cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away [it will lose its value and be superseded by truth].

It is still true... and I know it... and I believe it. But sometimes it is hard, because love is hard. When all these things are in you, it hurts all the more when nothing comes back. When quitting and loving are not possible in the same breath, the choice, even though obvious, still holds difficulty. Sacrifice is written all over these words, and all over love. Love is scary, because giving it can almost feel like disappearing at times. Like "I" am no longer there, only love, and the object of that love. And conversely, without love, I feel as though I am the only one, that I am completely alone. That is a feeling too terrifying to consider.

I have recently, and now again, been considering the old saying that it is "better to have loved and lost", and I think that I still hold it to be true. Love is an amazing thing through which I believe humanity feels the very depths and heights of emotion and even existence. Without it life is loss. I do not believe love to be something extinguished by any force known to us, tempered yes, but never quelched. It is the fuel for the engine that drives our very soul, and the smallest measure's potency is unmatched by any other motivator. It can lift us up or drive us mad. Such is its power, and such is its risk, but one that I gladly accept, even after tasting the madness of it. Even in the madness there is a glimpse of beauty. The knowledge of something so pure, so powerful, is worth the pursuit.

For those of you that have followed me for any length of time across various domain names and cyber space providers, you know that this is not a new subject for me to offer, but for me there is none greater, and one that I want to get right above all else. And so I will continue in my pursuit of understanding and living... These thoughts came out jumbled and random but that representation is probably not far off of the truth as I strive and forge ahead into the mystery...