Eager for action and hot for the game
The coming attraction, the drop of a name
They knew all the right people, they took
all the right pills
They threw outrageous parties, they paid heavenly bills
There were lines on the mirror, lines on her face
She pretended not to notice, she was caught up
in the race
Out every evening, until it was light
He was too tired to make it, she was too tired
to fight about it
The Eagles, Life in the Fast Lane
Several years ago, I began an emotional, intellectually crisis that eventually led to the creation of this blog. I started this process by writing a ‘story of me’ to those people I felt closest to, expressing the incongruities that I perceived. Exploring the pieces of my life that seemed relevant, and trying to get to the heart of where I lost myself.
Over the next couple days, I am going to post installments of that piece, originally written May, 2006, as a backdrop for all the explorations of eros philia agape.
I have written two more stories since then… one about the period that eros, itself, originally covered and one about my life since the original site was taken down. Both of those will also appear here in the next couple weeks.
I guess it is time for me to put these stories behind me so that I can move into the future now, unencumbered….
Chrysalis, Part 1:
For many of us, it is life’s promise that is good. It’s what we could become. It’s the potential. Many of us daydream our lives away, buying lottery tickets, imagining ourselves on American Idol or the New York Yankees or surrounded by adoring admirers in thrall to our sexual magnetism, or living vicariously through our children, or through ‘successful’ or beautiful people we know, or even through complete strangers (celebrities). As I keep saying, the scarce resources we most crave are appreciation and attention, and most of us have no hope of ever getting much of either. So we cling to our dreams, the possibilities we know are really impossible. For many of us, life is not really good. It is only the promise that it could be that keeps us going. – Dave Pollard
Reading this today nearly broke my heart.
Strange the degree of shock value there is in seeing your innermost thoughts brought to the surface, in print or spoken aloud. So long as those thoughts are firmly tucked away inside, they are safe. But as soon as they are brought out into the light, they begin to demand a response. That’s when it gets scary.
My brilliant young friend, Devin, has been stressing the need for us, human individuals, to connect not through discussion, but through stories. When we tell stories we are expressing who we are as opposed to what we think. So it is no wonder that we find it difficult to share those stories. We have been conditioned to hide them away – even from ourselves – as a necessary component of protecting our individuality, our personal space, our privacy. What happens when we start to blur those lines? To allow others in and, perhaps, to extend that space outward until it merges with, becomes indistinguishable from the space of those we love?
I think it is time to find out.
We each have many stories. Stories of love and loss, stories of triumph and failure, stories of daily life – that magical middle ground where our true self should shine… but all too often becomes buried, disused, forgotten and ignored. For some time now, I have stood and watched, bemused, as my true self struggled to reach the surface, to resume its rightful place in my life and in the lives of those I love. It hasn’t won, yet, but perhaps by telling ‘its’ story the Chrysalis will finally, irrevocably, disintegrate.