My fascination with mainstream women’s magazines has grown over the last five years. The initial attraction was most often the brightly advertised covers with something about sex which grabbed my short-term male imagination. “How to achieve an hour long orgasm” was one, and the other was “Teach him to love like Sting”. Look, I have to admit that he is one of my favourite artists I can add to my claim to fame that an ex-girlfriend who was an artist painted a picture of me walking into the fields and turning everything behind me to gold. But, and this is a very big but, I don’t want to have to endure five hours of foreplay to get to do what comes naturally!
The notion of what the modern woman wants still confuses me. I mean she wants a real man, a rugged adventurer, a gentle considerate lover (who needs to know when she wants more urgent loving), and she wants a man who is “in touch with his feminine side”!
I have to place this on record, I do not have a feminine side, and men (in general) find it mildly insulting to suggest we do! Before you tear your hair or this page out, let me elaborate. I am a man, I believe a solid man. Women say that they find it easy to have a relationship with a gay man because she feels safe with him in that he doesn’t want anything sexual from her. I have an earring, so I must be gay. I am at ease talking to women, so I must be gay. I wear pink at times and take care of my appearance, so I must definitely be gay. I am a psychologist and I am equally at ease and thoroughly comfortable in the complicated world of emotions as I am talking rugby with my mates, so I must be a little gay. Again for the record I am not gay, not even mildly gay, not even a tad gay, I am straight.
Men and women have at their disposal the full spectrum of human emotions, and women seem to have discovered far more of them than men. Let’s be honest, men have six basic emotions, happy, angry, horny, sleepy, watching sport and playing sport (horny deserves another mention as we link it to happy, and playing sport and after having sex we become sleepy). The lack of sex seems to make us angry, so I guess our primary emotions are angry and horny.
Women, on the other hand seem to far more easily understand the root causes of their anger, their happiness and they seem to have a completely different set of emotions that are considered mutual bed fellows with the emotion horny. Feeling loved, feeling safe, feeling recognised and feeling at peace seem to lead together as one towards the perhaps notion of the possibility of nookie. Just licking your lips gets us blokes going, and your cleavage does strange things to our blood flows.
When women are cooking, the best thing for us is snuggling behind them and cupping their breasts – something that seems to make women mad. You see, we are fulfilling the women magazine article headers, we are touching our feminine side, you are our woman and we are touching what we often consider to be your best side. Before you try to find my address in the phone book so that you can skin me alive, I say this tongue in cheek. I think.
You see, we are genetically wired differently, and if you want to get it from the horse’s mouth, just read “Why men don’t Iron” by Anne and Bill Moir. From before birth our neurological wiring is different, and after we as men and women struggle from a warm womb into this hostile cold world we are treated differently according to the visible presence of a penis or the lack thereof. At the birth of my son, the Argentinean Pediatrician raised my son up in the air and pronounced loudly “Ees champion, ee as weely!”
Getting back to the emotional “thing” as men prefer to call it, we are often totally lost in the sea of wave after wave of seemingly disparate emotion that women experience (and we are equally confused at how they string them together in their own logical way). This connectedness and illogical flow of emotions usually has us looking shell shocked and we naturally, as men are wired to do, try to find a logical solution to the problem presented to us. We have the answer, it is clear as day to us but we get frustrated when women say, “Why don’t you just listen!” We are not wired for listening, we are programmed to find a solution, to prove we are worthy. All this listening solves nothing in our minds, the answer is right there.
So we follow modern wisdom, we say little, nod and absorb a lot. After about half an hour of empathetic “uh-huhs” and well meaning looks we are allowed to speak and give the solution that we conjured up at the beginning of this roller coaster ride. Our disbelief turns to dismay and inevitably to sarcasm after our partners say, “Why didn’t you say that thirty minutes ago!”. So much for empathy. Let’s go back to the cave, me man, you woman, me hunt buck for dinner.
This feminine side that women say they desperately want to experience in men is something that women already have in enough abundance for both of us. Have you ever heard a man say to a woman, “I want you to think like a man, no I demand that you do, it will make you complete!”. The last thing we want is competition from you, we get enough of it from other men, all day, every day. What we need to do is celebrate your femininity and learn from your intuition. We rely on you to teach us the nuances of your expression, and we can only but learn and try to apply it in our own male way. Be honest, if you had a male partner who constantly asked you emotional stuff and behaved like a girlfriend, you would dump him for a more balanced man, albeit a confused man.
It’s late, it’s time to touch my feminine side, “Honey are you coming to bed?”
Monday, November 24, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
A Poem based on Imago Therapy
Too Much
Water under the Bridge
Ebb and flow of water
Tide driven,
Moon willed
Under the bridge
Means change
Constant - Never ending, Predictable
Yet, taken to heart
With matters of the heart
Too much water
Under the bridge
Means end of tide and flow
Taking on Tsunami resembled
Soul destruction
Break in life line - Over
The question
That nags at Psyche
What is the bridge?
Love!
That’s it.
That spans across
Religion
Culture
Upbringing
That connects
Two spirits
Both bound to their shores
Their past
Their hurts
Yet reaching out
Across divide
Against own nature
Over nature
To connect
And, on reaching centre
Without fail
Creating beautiful bond
They turn again to own shore
Not stepping across
Into other unknown territory
In faith and trust
And on safe journey
To own past lost longing
Pick up the heavy weighted baggage
And
With effort and pain drag it
To mid-span
Bridge
Once past belonging, un-belonging
Weighty unresolved issues unpacked
Sit with amazed awe
As Bridge creaks and moans,
And bends,
Screaming in agony
Of unwanted strain
Until back breaking crack
Felt through universe
In recoil
Baggage is flung
Back to own shore
Neatly packed in bags again
Till next time.
Too much water
Under the bridge?
The water is innocent
The bridge makers
At fault,
I’m afraid
Mike Lacey-Smith
January 23 2006
Water under the Bridge
Ebb and flow of water
Tide driven,
Moon willed
Under the bridge
Means change
Constant - Never ending, Predictable
Yet, taken to heart
With matters of the heart
Too much water
Under the bridge
Means end of tide and flow
Taking on Tsunami resembled
Soul destruction
Break in life line - Over
The question
That nags at Psyche
What is the bridge?
Love!
That’s it.
That spans across
Religion
Culture
Upbringing
That connects
Two spirits
Both bound to their shores
Their past
Their hurts
Yet reaching out
Across divide
Against own nature
Over nature
To connect
And, on reaching centre
Without fail
Creating beautiful bond
They turn again to own shore
Not stepping across
Into other unknown territory
In faith and trust
And on safe journey
To own past lost longing
Pick up the heavy weighted baggage
And
With effort and pain drag it
To mid-span
Bridge
Once past belonging, un-belonging
Weighty unresolved issues unpacked
Sit with amazed awe
As Bridge creaks and moans,
And bends,
Screaming in agony
Of unwanted strain
Until back breaking crack
Felt through universe
In recoil
Baggage is flung
Back to own shore
Neatly packed in bags again
Till next time.
Too much water
Under the bridge?
The water is innocent
The bridge makers
At fault,
I’m afraid
Mike Lacey-Smith
January 23 2006
Saturday, November 22, 2008
The Middleman
The Middleman
By Mike Lacey-Smith
About eight months ago, somebody told me about a new book by Jed Diamond entitled “The Irritable Male Syndrome”. I was also told, ”Read it, it sounds a lot like you!”. I went on line and completed the questionnaire and my score was 112 out of 120, and being a competitive man, I was rather proud of my achievement. My elation was short-lived as I discovered that low scores are positive and high ones bad! It was confirmed, I am officially an irritable male.
As for the infamous mid-life crisis, I have been there, done that and rebelled for the t-shirt. Not that it did me any good, I still feel like the middleman – half way between childhood and death with so much to do before I die.
Forty-six isn’t a bad number, unless you see age as a limitation. I live in South Africa and I am a White Male. For many men in the same situation this is a confusing age, filled with fear and a sense of urgency. A hollow empty black feeling often washes over men when added to this is dread of redundancy not only at work, but also at emotional, physical, cognitive and spiritual levels.
The “naughty forties” expectation is oft-time replaced by the “fraught forties” reality of existence. This is many men’s current perception of their situation, and feelings of helplessness and frustration become daily spirit-gnawing, energy-sapping realities.
The sarcastic response to this is often, “Ag Shame, poor men, it’s about time they got what was coming to them!” In many respects, I don’t criticise this response, as the pendulum was bound to swing as a result of equity and empowerment initiatives. We live in a multicultural democracy where Affirmative Action processes have far exceeded expectations and been actioned quicker and comparatively more effectively than a 200 year old United States.
The stark reality of possible retrenchment or ceiling limited careers has set many men on a tail spinning, out of control roller coaster ride. Their nightmares seem to be evolving into “daymares”, and this simply amplifies their own perceptions of the crisis of existence. Crisis prevention and containment plans seem to be sadly lacking worldwide as is evident in the New Orleans debacle. The Tsunami tragedy in Asia could have been better managed if the world had listened to the frantic warnings by an Oceanographer.
Men have traditionally been socialized to do, and women to express emotions. Tim Plewman calls men “hunters” and women “gatherers”. Men are destination oriented and women are more journey focused. Men today are at a distinct disadvantage as the goals they used to aim at have moved and the rules of the game have changed everywhere – at home, at work – everywhere. The male species is less adept at adapting, and we handle change with far greater difficulty than women.
It is time we stopped reacting and started responding. The world is changing at an ever increasing pace and men in general are simply not equipped to handle this change. We are instructed through male folklore to “knuckle down” and get on with it, but many men have simply never been given the tools to talk about their fears and frustrations. Men tend to look for quick fixes and often prefer survival skill training to life skill facilitated leaning. We often look to our peers for support and little useful wisdom is found because so many men don’t enjoy talking about deeper things.
Another tragedy is that men feel alone in their experiences and tend to clam up and adopt a stoical façade of being in control. It is the silence that becomes deafening and men sink faster into themselves in the hope that it will all go away. The most common male response is anger and rage, sometimes expressed outwardly, but most often driven inwards and we become the predictable non-communicative creatures that women always said we were. “You never talk to me”, and “You are always miserable and angry” are statements thrown about more and more. Men would like to respond with “I am miserable and angry because I am afraid”, but instead we react with anger, sarcasm, spite or even more silence – the vicious cycle of despair.
Women are blessed with greater capacity to exercise their emotional intelligence as they have, after all, been prepared for this through expressing themselves with other women without fear of ridicule. Men, however, would rather appear to be doing than expressing themselves emotionally. Herein lies another minefield, women are still talking but are ever increasingly taking over more traditional male roles and are doing for themselves. The poorly perceived and misguided perception in men’s eyes of the balance of “power” having moved not so subtly into the women’s camp is estranging as we are competitive creatures and don’t like losing. Nobody likes a sore loser and we don’t wear defeat well.
We have, I have to agree, become “Irritable Males” and many men feel like men in the middle – Middlemen! The good news is that not all men are like this, some of us experience the frustrations of life throwing things at us but we choose to respond, not react. Men tend to react and choose “exits” by drinking more and becoming less communicative. Others of us choose rather to respond, become proactive and do something about it. The world will not change for us and it will never be the way it was ten years ago. Aristotle got it right when he said, “To be angry is easy, but to be angry at the right person for the right reason at the right time, and know when to stop, that is hard”.
If men only realised that so many of us are in the same place, started talking about it and then actively sought new ways of coping constructively with the change we would be in a better place. Let’s hope we can do this and get beyond our fears, I believe men can be as good listeners as women and we can work together without the risk of ridicule. Let’s continue to be doers, but let’s do it differently.
By Mike Lacey-Smith
About eight months ago, somebody told me about a new book by Jed Diamond entitled “The Irritable Male Syndrome”. I was also told, ”Read it, it sounds a lot like you!”. I went on line and completed the questionnaire and my score was 112 out of 120, and being a competitive man, I was rather proud of my achievement. My elation was short-lived as I discovered that low scores are positive and high ones bad! It was confirmed, I am officially an irritable male.
As for the infamous mid-life crisis, I have been there, done that and rebelled for the t-shirt. Not that it did me any good, I still feel like the middleman – half way between childhood and death with so much to do before I die.
Forty-six isn’t a bad number, unless you see age as a limitation. I live in South Africa and I am a White Male. For many men in the same situation this is a confusing age, filled with fear and a sense of urgency. A hollow empty black feeling often washes over men when added to this is dread of redundancy not only at work, but also at emotional, physical, cognitive and spiritual levels.
The “naughty forties” expectation is oft-time replaced by the “fraught forties” reality of existence. This is many men’s current perception of their situation, and feelings of helplessness and frustration become daily spirit-gnawing, energy-sapping realities.
The sarcastic response to this is often, “Ag Shame, poor men, it’s about time they got what was coming to them!” In many respects, I don’t criticise this response, as the pendulum was bound to swing as a result of equity and empowerment initiatives. We live in a multicultural democracy where Affirmative Action processes have far exceeded expectations and been actioned quicker and comparatively more effectively than a 200 year old United States.
The stark reality of possible retrenchment or ceiling limited careers has set many men on a tail spinning, out of control roller coaster ride. Their nightmares seem to be evolving into “daymares”, and this simply amplifies their own perceptions of the crisis of existence. Crisis prevention and containment plans seem to be sadly lacking worldwide as is evident in the New Orleans debacle. The Tsunami tragedy in Asia could have been better managed if the world had listened to the frantic warnings by an Oceanographer.
Men have traditionally been socialized to do, and women to express emotions. Tim Plewman calls men “hunters” and women “gatherers”. Men are destination oriented and women are more journey focused. Men today are at a distinct disadvantage as the goals they used to aim at have moved and the rules of the game have changed everywhere – at home, at work – everywhere. The male species is less adept at adapting, and we handle change with far greater difficulty than women.
It is time we stopped reacting and started responding. The world is changing at an ever increasing pace and men in general are simply not equipped to handle this change. We are instructed through male folklore to “knuckle down” and get on with it, but many men have simply never been given the tools to talk about their fears and frustrations. Men tend to look for quick fixes and often prefer survival skill training to life skill facilitated leaning. We often look to our peers for support and little useful wisdom is found because so many men don’t enjoy talking about deeper things.
Another tragedy is that men feel alone in their experiences and tend to clam up and adopt a stoical façade of being in control. It is the silence that becomes deafening and men sink faster into themselves in the hope that it will all go away. The most common male response is anger and rage, sometimes expressed outwardly, but most often driven inwards and we become the predictable non-communicative creatures that women always said we were. “You never talk to me”, and “You are always miserable and angry” are statements thrown about more and more. Men would like to respond with “I am miserable and angry because I am afraid”, but instead we react with anger, sarcasm, spite or even more silence – the vicious cycle of despair.
Women are blessed with greater capacity to exercise their emotional intelligence as they have, after all, been prepared for this through expressing themselves with other women without fear of ridicule. Men, however, would rather appear to be doing than expressing themselves emotionally. Herein lies another minefield, women are still talking but are ever increasingly taking over more traditional male roles and are doing for themselves. The poorly perceived and misguided perception in men’s eyes of the balance of “power” having moved not so subtly into the women’s camp is estranging as we are competitive creatures and don’t like losing. Nobody likes a sore loser and we don’t wear defeat well.
We have, I have to agree, become “Irritable Males” and many men feel like men in the middle – Middlemen! The good news is that not all men are like this, some of us experience the frustrations of life throwing things at us but we choose to respond, not react. Men tend to react and choose “exits” by drinking more and becoming less communicative. Others of us choose rather to respond, become proactive and do something about it. The world will not change for us and it will never be the way it was ten years ago. Aristotle got it right when he said, “To be angry is easy, but to be angry at the right person for the right reason at the right time, and know when to stop, that is hard”.
If men only realised that so many of us are in the same place, started talking about it and then actively sought new ways of coping constructively with the change we would be in a better place. Let’s hope we can do this and get beyond our fears, I believe men can be as good listeners as women and we can work together without the risk of ridicule. Let’s continue to be doers, but let’s do it differently.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Something I wrote a while ago, glad I'm not there anymore
Depression – my subjective experience
Time seems to slow down in this place. Only the barest, tiny murmurings of anything seem to exist dulled somehow by the even thud in my head. The urge to do anything seemingly nudged from my consciousness and mindless monotonous activities fill my time.
My brain seems disconnected somehow, areas which house memory and useful information have shut down leaving a void for rush of self defeating emotion. That which brought joy seems mundane, laughter is a fantasy and fulfillment left empty at every level. Silence drowned by negative fear driven thought fills the spaces between the spaces. No stopping it, no solving it, no solution at hand so just wait it out. Every second wasted brings with it new guilt heaped on guilt of years past.
Can’t remember where anything is anymore, can’t recollect why I entered the room in the first place, just bewildered spinning looking for vague clue that drove the action in the first place. Leave the room, brain searching for answers, they flood in and the action gets repeated.
Then there are the floods of emotion, sadness, anger, fear disgust and shame all at once. Body responds at gut level and the tsunami rises from intestines rushing headlong to my chest. As if in perfect rhythm, my heart starts to pound faster and the veins in my neck take strain. Breathing more shallow and tangible heart beat in chest and throat force me to hold my breath in the vain hope it will stop. It doesn’t and the deep pounding becomes more intense and emotion grips my throat tighter and tighter.
Brain screaming now, intensely searching for a way out, but thoughts race down unwanted all too familiar unhappy alleys. Narrowed vision and dull ears make it harder to look to the light, mind preferring dark quiet corner to hide.
Thoughts rush round like water emptying from a basin, swirling down gathering momentum. Gurgling they rush down the plug hole of unfulfilled dreams, lost chances and bad choices all gathered into one tornado of hurt. Unlike a basin the swirling doesn’t stop, the basin never empties.
Find a distraction for a second, find anything to stop the wild horse charge of emotion that chokes my throat, strangling it in a vice grip that starts a pain in my temples and creates a pit in my stomach. Do anything, do nothing, just make it stop. Yet it will not be stopped, will not be slowed, will not be deterred. Nothing changes, all seems the same, just the noise gets more dulled in its loudness.
Writing it down helps but does not change the vacuum that draws blackness towards me, black on black, deeper black on deeper black. Layers of black, each one blacker than the one before, darkening with each moment. Violent storms within the layered dark erupt in teary eyed throat choking mind spasms.
Glad I wrote it, sad I know how.
Time seems to slow down in this place. Only the barest, tiny murmurings of anything seem to exist dulled somehow by the even thud in my head. The urge to do anything seemingly nudged from my consciousness and mindless monotonous activities fill my time.
My brain seems disconnected somehow, areas which house memory and useful information have shut down leaving a void for rush of self defeating emotion. That which brought joy seems mundane, laughter is a fantasy and fulfillment left empty at every level. Silence drowned by negative fear driven thought fills the spaces between the spaces. No stopping it, no solving it, no solution at hand so just wait it out. Every second wasted brings with it new guilt heaped on guilt of years past.
Can’t remember where anything is anymore, can’t recollect why I entered the room in the first place, just bewildered spinning looking for vague clue that drove the action in the first place. Leave the room, brain searching for answers, they flood in and the action gets repeated.
Then there are the floods of emotion, sadness, anger, fear disgust and shame all at once. Body responds at gut level and the tsunami rises from intestines rushing headlong to my chest. As if in perfect rhythm, my heart starts to pound faster and the veins in my neck take strain. Breathing more shallow and tangible heart beat in chest and throat force me to hold my breath in the vain hope it will stop. It doesn’t and the deep pounding becomes more intense and emotion grips my throat tighter and tighter.
Brain screaming now, intensely searching for a way out, but thoughts race down unwanted all too familiar unhappy alleys. Narrowed vision and dull ears make it harder to look to the light, mind preferring dark quiet corner to hide.
Thoughts rush round like water emptying from a basin, swirling down gathering momentum. Gurgling they rush down the plug hole of unfulfilled dreams, lost chances and bad choices all gathered into one tornado of hurt. Unlike a basin the swirling doesn’t stop, the basin never empties.
Find a distraction for a second, find anything to stop the wild horse charge of emotion that chokes my throat, strangling it in a vice grip that starts a pain in my temples and creates a pit in my stomach. Do anything, do nothing, just make it stop. Yet it will not be stopped, will not be slowed, will not be deterred. Nothing changes, all seems the same, just the noise gets more dulled in its loudness.
Writing it down helps but does not change the vacuum that draws blackness towards me, black on black, deeper black on deeper black. Layers of black, each one blacker than the one before, darkening with each moment. Violent storms within the layered dark erupt in teary eyed throat choking mind spasms.
Glad I wrote it, sad I know how.
What is Love?
What is Love?
In our upcoming book, “JourneyMan, Man’s Journey into Wholeness” the definitive statement about love is deeply philosophical and reads “At the heart of love lies commitment. Commitment is more than fidelity, greater than the sum of the feelings, and more reliable than the seasons. The assumption of mutual relationship is concomitant with love. The external ramifications of love are the holding of hands, the loving looks, the passionate kiss. The internal reality of love is the surety, safety and strength of belonging.”
Taken at face value, this is idealistic, naive and truly beautiful. Within it is all the hope, joy and excitement of falling in love - an incredible plus in this cynical world. The naivety is clear, in that the world is intolerant of emotionality. The beauty rests in the sum of the both.
Love is overrated and exploited and the only true love we have is for our higher power and for our children – we give them both our whole spirit and this is a fact. Any parent who is unable to give this love is psychologically challenged and has some core deep personality defect or worse. Psychopathic and sociopathic parents don’t care about love, but understand the abusive manipulative power of love to get what they want. They bring up children who often do the same by learning through observation even when they themselves are not diagnosed with these crippling disorders – sad isn’t it!
Every person will have a different definition of love, and Annias Anin clearly says that we “don’t see things as they are, we see things as we are”. So how can we all see love the same way, it is impossible. Media has told us, however, that love Hollywood style is simple, so easy and so readily acceptable.
The modern poets today are the musicians, who for all there style and genre differences express love in gentle and savage ways. The young people of today, and the older ones like me who still appreciate music of any form, can hear their sentiment and their angst.
The opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference, a feeling of I don’t give a damn. Somehow, it is easier to walk away from someone for whom you don’t give a continental. But you loved them once, and what has changed, what has shifted, what has devolved, what came undone? I would hazard a guess that we realized that our needs weren’t being met, and in an attempt to be heard, expressed these needs. Other people often read our needs as demands and will react in a childish almost predictable manner of non-compliance. Strange how a need expressed is seen as hard work by someone else, the same person who confessed undying love and adoration – once.
In high school, saying the “L” work was so difficult, but as we get older, it becomes easier and easier to say, often to the wrong people. Many times it is said for the wrong reasons and at the wrong time, but hey, if someone loves me, there must be something to it? Wrong! Love is two-way thing, and it does not come with demands or rules. The guiding principles behind love are “love as you would like to be loved” – don’t expect it, it seldom happens. Nice ideal though.
“I love you” can often be substituted for I need you, I am lonely, I don’t like being alone and sadly I am desperate to be loved. Admittedly if the need is so strong for both parties, the relationship may just work, dysfunctionally maybe, but it may work. The real problem is when one person’s need is legitimate and the other person’s dysfunctional. A recipe for disaster.
Real love is expressed on Valentine’s Day, and I hear you laugh out loud with me, and with flower shops, card manufacturers and restaurant owners alike (did I forget Jewelers too?). Tokens of love are not love, card professing love are often contrived, and flowers die. Real love can die too.
Erich Fromm says that we only have 3 basic needs as human being, “To Love, To be Loved and To be Recognised’’. You can love someone, and they can love you too, but if you don’t recognize them for who they are, leave, you are wasting your time. Expecting someone to change to be the person you want them to be is tantamount to manipulation, blackmail and subversion. Like me or leave me, your choice, but don’t demand that I change to make you happy, who do you think you are?
A friend of mine for this reason says that he believes in “Serial Monogamy”, and I believe he has a point. I don’t necessarily believe that he will be happy all his life, but believe me he is a hell of a lot happier than other men trapped in unhappy, unloving relationships
So for all the honour and integrity in the well meant, accurate and idealistic statement about love, the principles apply, but most often are not applied with integrity. Integrity means you mean it without expecting anything in return – look it is good being loved back, but it rarely happens. Someone once said that the greatest dishonesty you can inflict on another person is to tell them that you love them when you don’t. You are also a fraud if you utter those words “I love you” and don’t show it in your attitudes and actions. You see, love is all or nothing and somewhere in between doesn’t cut it. Real love is a diamond (albeit with its faults) and dishonest love is a pure flawless zirconium – looks the same, but it is a cheap replacement for the real thing.
“She loves me, she loves me not” has destroyed many perfect flowers, will you let it destroy you?
In our upcoming book, “JourneyMan, Man’s Journey into Wholeness” the definitive statement about love is deeply philosophical and reads “At the heart of love lies commitment. Commitment is more than fidelity, greater than the sum of the feelings, and more reliable than the seasons. The assumption of mutual relationship is concomitant with love. The external ramifications of love are the holding of hands, the loving looks, the passionate kiss. The internal reality of love is the surety, safety and strength of belonging.”
Taken at face value, this is idealistic, naive and truly beautiful. Within it is all the hope, joy and excitement of falling in love - an incredible plus in this cynical world. The naivety is clear, in that the world is intolerant of emotionality. The beauty rests in the sum of the both.
Love is overrated and exploited and the only true love we have is for our higher power and for our children – we give them both our whole spirit and this is a fact. Any parent who is unable to give this love is psychologically challenged and has some core deep personality defect or worse. Psychopathic and sociopathic parents don’t care about love, but understand the abusive manipulative power of love to get what they want. They bring up children who often do the same by learning through observation even when they themselves are not diagnosed with these crippling disorders – sad isn’t it!
Every person will have a different definition of love, and Annias Anin clearly says that we “don’t see things as they are, we see things as we are”. So how can we all see love the same way, it is impossible. Media has told us, however, that love Hollywood style is simple, so easy and so readily acceptable.
The modern poets today are the musicians, who for all there style and genre differences express love in gentle and savage ways. The young people of today, and the older ones like me who still appreciate music of any form, can hear their sentiment and their angst.
The opposite of love is not hate, it is indifference, a feeling of I don’t give a damn. Somehow, it is easier to walk away from someone for whom you don’t give a continental. But you loved them once, and what has changed, what has shifted, what has devolved, what came undone? I would hazard a guess that we realized that our needs weren’t being met, and in an attempt to be heard, expressed these needs. Other people often read our needs as demands and will react in a childish almost predictable manner of non-compliance. Strange how a need expressed is seen as hard work by someone else, the same person who confessed undying love and adoration – once.
In high school, saying the “L” work was so difficult, but as we get older, it becomes easier and easier to say, often to the wrong people. Many times it is said for the wrong reasons and at the wrong time, but hey, if someone loves me, there must be something to it? Wrong! Love is two-way thing, and it does not come with demands or rules. The guiding principles behind love are “love as you would like to be loved” – don’t expect it, it seldom happens. Nice ideal though.
“I love you” can often be substituted for I need you, I am lonely, I don’t like being alone and sadly I am desperate to be loved. Admittedly if the need is so strong for both parties, the relationship may just work, dysfunctionally maybe, but it may work. The real problem is when one person’s need is legitimate and the other person’s dysfunctional. A recipe for disaster.
Real love is expressed on Valentine’s Day, and I hear you laugh out loud with me, and with flower shops, card manufacturers and restaurant owners alike (did I forget Jewelers too?). Tokens of love are not love, card professing love are often contrived, and flowers die. Real love can die too.
Erich Fromm says that we only have 3 basic needs as human being, “To Love, To be Loved and To be Recognised’’. You can love someone, and they can love you too, but if you don’t recognize them for who they are, leave, you are wasting your time. Expecting someone to change to be the person you want them to be is tantamount to manipulation, blackmail and subversion. Like me or leave me, your choice, but don’t demand that I change to make you happy, who do you think you are?
A friend of mine for this reason says that he believes in “Serial Monogamy”, and I believe he has a point. I don’t necessarily believe that he will be happy all his life, but believe me he is a hell of a lot happier than other men trapped in unhappy, unloving relationships
So for all the honour and integrity in the well meant, accurate and idealistic statement about love, the principles apply, but most often are not applied with integrity. Integrity means you mean it without expecting anything in return – look it is good being loved back, but it rarely happens. Someone once said that the greatest dishonesty you can inflict on another person is to tell them that you love them when you don’t. You are also a fraud if you utter those words “I love you” and don’t show it in your attitudes and actions. You see, love is all or nothing and somewhere in between doesn’t cut it. Real love is a diamond (albeit with its faults) and dishonest love is a pure flawless zirconium – looks the same, but it is a cheap replacement for the real thing.
“She loves me, she loves me not” has destroyed many perfect flowers, will you let it destroy you?
Bitter Sweet
Bitter Sweet
Dream on
Bitter Sweet
Lost Love
Memories linger
Good
And bad
Ecstatic to sad
Black and White
Become shades of grey
Merging and swirling
Smokey lines
Rise to light
And blur in curls
Gone
Yet hang
In clouded shroud
Sweet to sour
Bitter sweet
Made me complete
For a while
Once upon a time gentle smile
Now
Curled down scowl
Day to night
And light to dark
Sweet to Bitter
Bitter Sweet
Lost love
Curled in a ball
I wait for the dawn
And new day,
Another chance
To taste
The fruit of love
Quiet before storm
Rather quiet after storm
In stillness
Spirit waiting
Patient as never before
Bitter sweet
Free
Dream on
Bitter Sweet
Lost Love
Memories linger
Good
And bad
Ecstatic to sad
Black and White
Become shades of grey
Merging and swirling
Smokey lines
Rise to light
And blur in curls
Gone
Yet hang
In clouded shroud
Sweet to sour
Bitter sweet
Made me complete
For a while
Once upon a time gentle smile
Now
Curled down scowl
Day to night
And light to dark
Sweet to Bitter
Bitter Sweet
Lost love
Curled in a ball
I wait for the dawn
And new day,
Another chance
To taste
The fruit of love
Quiet before storm
Rather quiet after storm
In stillness
Spirit waiting
Patient as never before
Bitter sweet
Free
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