Sunday, January 30, 2011
Loveless
Sorry, had to use the cover of "Loveless" for this one. What do you do when love goes south for you? That's a tough call, because, if you're any kind of optimist, there's always the hope that things'll get better; whereas if you're mostly a pessimist, you might not even recognize a good thing when you have it. But as an optimist, I ran into that difficulty with Exene -- I truly loved her, and I think she loved my love for her more than anything else. I mean, I think she enjoyed my sense of humor and sense of fun and my imagination and my loyalty -- those added up to an aggregate that equaled "Love" in her eyes.
But my relationship with her took a real toll on me, and revealed a major challenge one risks in love -- that you can love somebody who is not terribly good for you (or even good to you). That's something I still think about, and what it means. I mean, with Exene, my love for her was gradually belt-sanded into resentment of her, anger at the lack of reciprocity and partnership, until I burned out. What had been a true love (as near as I understood the term at that time) eroded away in the face of the reality of my situation with her.
Eventually, I just was going through the motions, without my heart in it. I can say without equivocation that I definitely fell out of love with Exene. I am happier now without her than I ever was with her -- and this was after months (and perhaps even years, when I think back on it) of agonizing soul-searching. But that's something of a rule of thumb measure of love -- are you happier without your Love than you were with them?
What do you do when you love someone you're not compatible with? It's a harder question than one can know, and maybe it's a luxury people enjoy in this world that was immaterial in past generations. Then again, marriage and love are not synonymous -- the Victorians really saddled the bucking bronco of romantic love to the draft horse of marriage, and much of that problem plagues people today, like expecting that One Person to be The One, or unrealistic expectations of that person, that relationship. For some folks, they might stick it out, or, because they're loving, they look the other way when confronted with the things that hurt them in a relationship. Or maybe they split when they realize that what they have to offer isn't what the other person wants or values (and/or they realize that the other person offers them nothing and gives them nothing but grief).
If you really love someone, you forgive them for their faults, and if you don't, you won't -- rather, those faults will just nag at you and probably magnify in time until it's all you see. What do you do if you forgive someone for those faults because you love them, even though you recognize that those faults are likely to come back to haunt you again and again? I think people make that kind of Faustian bargain all the time, whether trying to change somebody for the better, or to heal them, or appeal to their better nature, when that nature may not be there to begin with.
It's a pragmatic thing to consider, so it doesn't come naturally to me, but how someone makes you feel and how they treat you are factors in the overall process. But the optimistic and romantic part of me thinks that one should forgive, too. That capacity to love carries within it the necessity of forgiveness, and the hope and promise that true love brings.
Just as trust and appreciation and hope are integral to true love, so is forgiveness. The first three are like fertilizer for love, they make love possible, whereas the latter is something that lets love endure through hardship; it's kind of a defense mechanism for love. But what can you forgive, and what is unforgivable?
That's something I think about (and here is where my atheism comes into it -- Limoncello said I was the most spiritual atheist she knew, and she's a believer) -- that nature of forgiveness. If you still love someone, you can forgive them; without that love, you can't. But it is the capacity to forgive that lets love through -- it's a chicken/egg kind of paradox, in some ways. If somebody is vindictive, they're not going to be able to forgive, and that is a love-killer. If you are forgiving by nature, then you can still feel love, even through adversity.
It's labyrinthine. It highlights the curious power of love and forgiveness, how inextricably they are tied -- if you love, you forgive; if you are forgiving, you will be loving -- I don't think it's possible to be loving and vindictive, because the latter requires grinding love under an iron-shod boot.
1 Corinthians puts it well:
Now, of course, the Bible's all about God-lovin', versus people-lovin' (I mean, sure "love one another" and such, but above it all, God hovers and hogs the spotlight), but as an atheist, I can look at what it said about that God-lovin' and apply it to this world. The above is a nice invocation of true love, the idealized love we see expressed in the pop culture (or used to, anyway -- is love passé these days?) It's kind of funny -- to the Christian, God is Love; but to the heathen Romantic, Love is God -- bahah! It's how I can look at that line above and think of it with real-world love, instead of with spiritual love.
I suppose one could spin the above around and find what love isn't that way: "Non-love is always impatient and unkind; it is always jealous, non-love is always boastful and conceited; it is always rude and selfish; it takes offense and is resentful. Non-love takes pleasure in other people's sins and delights in lies; it is never ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and won't endure whatever comes. Non-love ends."
It's kind of funny to see it that way -- I resisted calling it "hatred" -- which is habitually expressed as the opposite of love, because it's not quite right, here. But I'm contrasting true love with what, exactly? Non-love, which isn't the same as hatred or indifference. Non-love is when you think someone loves you (or when you think you love someone) but you're wrong about it.
But seeing it as a list above, it's amusing -- how can one possibly love with that much emotional pollution choking their spirit? And if a relationship (or an individual) is riven with those things, how can it possibly be love? How can they even feel love, or recognize love if they even run across it?
Forgiveness is the last bastion of love, I guess. If you can't forgive, you can't love. But, on the bright side, if you can forgive, you can love.
But my relationship with her took a real toll on me, and revealed a major challenge one risks in love -- that you can love somebody who is not terribly good for you (or even good to you). That's something I still think about, and what it means. I mean, with Exene, my love for her was gradually belt-sanded into resentment of her, anger at the lack of reciprocity and partnership, until I burned out. What had been a true love (as near as I understood the term at that time) eroded away in the face of the reality of my situation with her.
Eventually, I just was going through the motions, without my heart in it. I can say without equivocation that I definitely fell out of love with Exene. I am happier now without her than I ever was with her -- and this was after months (and perhaps even years, when I think back on it) of agonizing soul-searching. But that's something of a rule of thumb measure of love -- are you happier without your Love than you were with them?
What do you do when you love someone you're not compatible with? It's a harder question than one can know, and maybe it's a luxury people enjoy in this world that was immaterial in past generations. Then again, marriage and love are not synonymous -- the Victorians really saddled the bucking bronco of romantic love to the draft horse of marriage, and much of that problem plagues people today, like expecting that One Person to be The One, or unrealistic expectations of that person, that relationship. For some folks, they might stick it out, or, because they're loving, they look the other way when confronted with the things that hurt them in a relationship. Or maybe they split when they realize that what they have to offer isn't what the other person wants or values (and/or they realize that the other person offers them nothing and gives them nothing but grief).
If you really love someone, you forgive them for their faults, and if you don't, you won't -- rather, those faults will just nag at you and probably magnify in time until it's all you see. What do you do if you forgive someone for those faults because you love them, even though you recognize that those faults are likely to come back to haunt you again and again? I think people make that kind of Faustian bargain all the time, whether trying to change somebody for the better, or to heal them, or appeal to their better nature, when that nature may not be there to begin with.
It's a pragmatic thing to consider, so it doesn't come naturally to me, but how someone makes you feel and how they treat you are factors in the overall process. But the optimistic and romantic part of me thinks that one should forgive, too. That capacity to love carries within it the necessity of forgiveness, and the hope and promise that true love brings.
Just as trust and appreciation and hope are integral to true love, so is forgiveness. The first three are like fertilizer for love, they make love possible, whereas the latter is something that lets love endure through hardship; it's kind of a defense mechanism for love. But what can you forgive, and what is unforgivable?
That's something I think about (and here is where my atheism comes into it -- Limoncello said I was the most spiritual atheist she knew, and she's a believer) -- that nature of forgiveness. If you still love someone, you can forgive them; without that love, you can't. But it is the capacity to forgive that lets love through -- it's a chicken/egg kind of paradox, in some ways. If somebody is vindictive, they're not going to be able to forgive, and that is a love-killer. If you are forgiving by nature, then you can still feel love, even through adversity.
It's labyrinthine. It highlights the curious power of love and forgiveness, how inextricably they are tied -- if you love, you forgive; if you are forgiving, you will be loving -- I don't think it's possible to be loving and vindictive, because the latter requires grinding love under an iron-shod boot.
1 Corinthians puts it well:
“Love is always patient and kind; it is never jealous, love is never boastful or conceited; it is never rude or selfish; it does not take offense, and is not resentful. Love takes no pleasure in other people’s sins but delights in the truth; it is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes. Love does not come to an end.”
Now, of course, the Bible's all about God-lovin', versus people-lovin' (I mean, sure "love one another" and such, but above it all, God hovers and hogs the spotlight), but as an atheist, I can look at what it said about that God-lovin' and apply it to this world. The above is a nice invocation of true love, the idealized love we see expressed in the pop culture (or used to, anyway -- is love passé these days?) It's kind of funny -- to the Christian, God is Love; but to the heathen Romantic, Love is God -- bahah! It's how I can look at that line above and think of it with real-world love, instead of with spiritual love.
I suppose one could spin the above around and find what love isn't that way: "Non-love is always impatient and unkind; it is always jealous, non-love is always boastful and conceited; it is always rude and selfish; it takes offense and is resentful. Non-love takes pleasure in other people's sins and delights in lies; it is never ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and won't endure whatever comes. Non-love ends."
- Impatient
- Unkind
- Jealous
- Boastful
- Conceited
- Rude
- Selfish
- Vindictive
- Resentful
- Wicked
- Dishonest
- Unforgiving
- Mistrustful
- Hopeless
- Transitory
It's kind of funny to see it that way -- I resisted calling it "hatred" -- which is habitually expressed as the opposite of love, because it's not quite right, here. But I'm contrasting true love with what, exactly? Non-love, which isn't the same as hatred or indifference. Non-love is when you think someone loves you (or when you think you love someone) but you're wrong about it.
But seeing it as a list above, it's amusing -- how can one possibly love with that much emotional pollution choking their spirit? And if a relationship (or an individual) is riven with those things, how can it possibly be love? How can they even feel love, or recognize love if they even run across it?
Forgiveness is the last bastion of love, I guess. If you can't forgive, you can't love. But, on the bright side, if you can forgive, you can love.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)