Friday, December 02, 2005
Stupid Love
Oh, my aching heart. I was looking at some pictures of Ben today, and my heart actually aches for him. Egh. I'm really a lot poorer at this long-distance thing than I thought I would be. On the bright side, it's only forty minutes to the third of December, and I fly to Toronto on the nineteenth, so I don't have that much time to wait. Just over two weeks. I saw a couple at a cafe today, and they were just reading together. He, reading a book, and she, flipping through a magazine. At one point he looked up at her, and asked "do you want another glass of water?" It was exquisite. There is a point in relationships, I think, where you've seen so much of the other person, that there is no point in pretending at things anymore. Jay and Barbara are like this at times, and it's really beautiful to witness. Of course, it's also beautiful to witness how volatile they are, and that they call one another on their bullshit constantly.
And all this when I'd decided that I was again maybe becoming too demonstrative, and was curious about experimenting with what it would be like to choose not to express every emotion I have regarding Ben directly to him. What if I let him come to me sometimes? Perhaps this is what happens - this intense intense longing. I'm going to ride this out for a little longer.
Something else I've thought about - scary for you people who know me, since this Christian language is a little new - is that the heart in this body is not actually my heart to give or to guard (now we're talking about art, and not Ben, although this is applicable that way too), but in fact, is God's heart, and I have a feeling (a free will kind of feeling), that God wants me to give of it. In fact, I'm sure of it. So all these things, in art, that I don't do because it doesn't fit in my definition of "who I am", contravene what I believe to be my purpose.
On a totally different note, if there was some sort of deadly famine or disease that wiped out the human race, I think it would be very quick for our cities to become swallowed up in the forests that would encroach. Perhaps this is why Vancouverites are so obsessed with ripping down their buildings - one gets the feeling of this encroaching of nature here much more than in Toronto or Ottawa, or Montreal. The dampness of the climate means that when leaves fall on the ground, the begin to turn to soil before my eyes. If there was no one here to mend the streets as the roots of the trees break them up, and no one to rake away the leaves that fall down, it would only be a matter of years before the traces of our existence were buried far underground. Would the redwood forests overtake the coast? I think so.
And all this when I'd decided that I was again maybe becoming too demonstrative, and was curious about experimenting with what it would be like to choose not to express every emotion I have regarding Ben directly to him. What if I let him come to me sometimes? Perhaps this is what happens - this intense intense longing. I'm going to ride this out for a little longer.
Something else I've thought about - scary for you people who know me, since this Christian language is a little new - is that the heart in this body is not actually my heart to give or to guard (now we're talking about art, and not Ben, although this is applicable that way too), but in fact, is God's heart, and I have a feeling (a free will kind of feeling), that God wants me to give of it. In fact, I'm sure of it. So all these things, in art, that I don't do because it doesn't fit in my definition of "who I am", contravene what I believe to be my purpose.
On a totally different note, if there was some sort of deadly famine or disease that wiped out the human race, I think it would be very quick for our cities to become swallowed up in the forests that would encroach. Perhaps this is why Vancouverites are so obsessed with ripping down their buildings - one gets the feeling of this encroaching of nature here much more than in Toronto or Ottawa, or Montreal. The dampness of the climate means that when leaves fall on the ground, the begin to turn to soil before my eyes. If there was no one here to mend the streets as the roots of the trees break them up, and no one to rake away the leaves that fall down, it would only be a matter of years before the traces of our existence were buried far underground. Would the redwood forests overtake the coast? I think so.
// posted by MSR @ 11:13 PM 
