Crazy Thing
Muan 02/25
What is it with love that prompts men to do crazy things; to start the most devastating of wars and compose the loveliest of poems; to create a whimpering or an angst-filled tune; to disobey the logical, to face the impossible; to fail and experience something worse than death, or to triumph and experience an instance of nirvana.
To believe that there is a God, one must first love. A script in a movie I once watched said:
But how feeble this love is and how easy it is to destroy the ones we love! A word, an act, a gesture, health, money, mood, and desire-all these can cast a shadow that can transform that which was special-burdensome. Sometimes we wear ourselves out. And that which was once beautiful becomes bland and boring.
Relationships in which love revolves are complex and difficult, and few (including me) come out of it unscathed. Though we would like it to remain, to endure and to persist, relationship is constantly moving, and it cannot be made to conform to a movie-like pattern in which we live happily ever after.
It is a means to grow and to know oneself. But how we struggle against growth or against knowing ourselves! Men always deceive by putting their best foot forward when courting-seeking acceptance, performing great feats in which they would not dare to do in a normal day, women later demystified by the true self of the man.
Sometimes, we love with our minds and not with our hearts. As J. Krishnamurti said,
The eternal conflict of the mind and the heart. My personal frustrations, my fears, my pain. That which makes me alive after a heartache-my pride. No wonder how men can create the most wonderful things and do the most devastating acts for the sake of that which makes us feel-even for an instance-that blissful sensation which can only be found in the mystery we call love.
What is it with love that prompts men to do crazy things; to start the most devastating of wars and compose the loveliest of poems; to create a whimpering or an angst-filled tune; to disobey the logical, to face the impossible; to fail and experience something worse than death, or to triumph and experience an instance of nirvana.
To believe that there is a God, one must first love. A script in a movie I once watched said:
“I am a cynic and I don’t believe in God. But I met you and you are the evidence to support that God exists. For you are not a chance nor product of nature, but a blessing in which only a divine entity can create. And now I believe in destiny, for it is statistically impossible with over billions of people in this planet, that I meet you and more impossible that I love you.”
But how feeble this love is and how easy it is to destroy the ones we love! A word, an act, a gesture, health, money, mood, and desire-all these can cast a shadow that can transform that which was special-burdensome. Sometimes we wear ourselves out. And that which was once beautiful becomes bland and boring.
Relationships in which love revolves are complex and difficult, and few (including me) come out of it unscathed. Though we would like it to remain, to endure and to persist, relationship is constantly moving, and it cannot be made to conform to a movie-like pattern in which we live happily ever after.
It is a means to grow and to know oneself. But how we struggle against growth or against knowing ourselves! Men always deceive by putting their best foot forward when courting-seeking acceptance, performing great feats in which they would not dare to do in a normal day, women later demystified by the true self of the man.
Sometimes, we love with our minds and not with our hearts. As J. Krishnamurti said,
“Mind can modify itself but love cannot. Mind can make itself invulnerable, but love cannot; mind can always withdraw, be exclusive, become personal or impersonal. Love is not to be compared and hedged about. Our difficulty lies in that which we call love, which is really of the mind. We fill our hearts with the things of the mind and so keep our hearts ever empty and expectant. It is the mind that clings, that is envious, that holds and destroys. Our life is dominated by the physical centers and by the mind. We do not love and let it alone, but crave to be loved; we give in order to receive, which is the generosity of the mind and not of the heart. The mind is ever seeking certainty, security and can love be made certain by the mind? Can the mind whose very essence is of time, catch love, which is its own eternity? There is no means to love as a desirable end to the mind.”
The eternal conflict of the mind and the heart. My personal frustrations, my fears, my pain. That which makes me alive after a heartache-my pride. No wonder how men can create the most wonderful things and do the most devastating acts for the sake of that which makes us feel-even for an instance-that blissful sensation which can only be found in the mystery we call love.
jotted by maun at 1:15:00 PM
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