Tennyson, et al.
(February 12, 2008)
I have been thinking lately about love. Maybe it's this whole damn Anniversary/Valentine week that is causing me to examine the concept and analyze the hell out of it. I don't know why - doing so frustrates me, vexes me, makes me feel as if I am stuck tracing the outline of a circle on the floor, walking the circular pattern, faster and slower - and faster and slower. I have a thought, it makes sense and my pace quickens - I am on to something... logic follows logic... I am at last grasping the concept, making sense of it - yes... I almost have it.... and then - a dead end. My pace dejectedly slows... confusion sets in... I am back at the beginning of the circle again. Love, it is, at least in my mind, the greatest contradiction - the grandest inconsistency.
What is love? What's the big deal? Everything in life shares a preoccupation with it. Wars have been fought for it, art created around it, books written because of it - a holiday, for goodness sake, to celebrate it. But what IS it? It can't be touched yet it can be felt? It is something expected to be given without expectation of return. It can take many forms, it can change shape at will, it can morph and grow and die. Love can be the purest, most intoxicating joy. Love can be the darkest, most agonizing pain. Is it all worth it...? I suppose that's the real confusion I have, the one question I keep asking myself over and over. Many people will, without any hesitation what so ever, immediately answer with a resounding, emphatic, innocent YES! Me? hmmmmm ....
In Alfred Lord Tennyson's In Memorium is contained a poem with the famous lines, "I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost, Than never to have loved at all." It's pretty common fair, used often whenever a love ends... whenever we need a sweet, comforting thought... a way to soften our hearts to the bitter reality of the situation. Words recited by the head in an attempt to trick the heart - the ultimate mind game. What I want to know though, is Tennyson right? Is it better to have lost - better to have lost love... to actually have something so wonderful... so satisfying, so completing .... and then to lose it. Is it really better to feel the warmth, desire and freedom that only love can bring only to have it disappear so coldly, so quickly and so savagely? Is Jean Anouilh (a French dramatist) correct? He said, "There is love of course. And then there's life, its enemy." Do the two compete? Are life and love at odds? A strange thought considering many philosophers believe happiness to be the one absolute goal of life and that true happiness comes from loving and being loved. Oh man! Why am I seeing that damn circle again?
Why o' why is lost love romanticized so? Ok... I get the concept that in order to understand something, to truly value its importance and gravity, it is often helpful to have something with which to compare. G.K. Chesterton (a 20th century English writer) wrote, "The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost." All right... I can accept the word might. Might doesn't denote fact... might is just a possibility. Kahlil Gibran, however, just can't leave well enough alone... might isn't good enough... it has to be all or nothing - "Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation." It's not good enough to only imagine its loss... not sufficient enough to surmise how it would feel. Nope... gotta lose it. Phfffffffttttt... gone. But ya' really gotta be careful. Love is a risky proposition... a hazard to your health.... One too many broken hearts and a gal could end up like Mrs. Havarsham in Great Expectations... hanging out in a rotting wedding dress, warping a little girl and playing mind games with an orphan boy. How attractive.
Washington Irving wrote, "Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart." Ok... yeah, sure - sorry Irving... not feeling too softened right now. Pain doesn't render my heart tender ... it hardens me, brings an instinct of self preservation to the surface - pain circles my wagons. So the question still remains on my mind... is it really better to have loved and lost? I think I like Otomo No Yakamochi's take on it... he was an 8th century Japanese statesman and poet (go figure), apparently wrote a collection of poetry, the first anthology of its kind in Japanese history.... and in there somewhere is contained the line, "Better never to have met you in my dream than to wake and reach for hands that are not there." You can't miss what you never knew, correct? But I love the imagery it envokes... love does often feel like a dream... a dream filled with a soft, diffused glow... light, muted colors.... warm, welcoming breezes.... a drowsy, comforting contentment. We eventually wake up though... don't we? We wake and we wonder - how can we get back there... how can we close our eyes and return to that exact moment in the dream - please, oh please, just let me go back.... But we can't ever seem to do it can we? And then reality sets in - awareness dawns, the sleep falls from our eyes and we are left with a strange dull ache... a longing for something - something mesmerizing... something vague... something illusive ... and then the tears come and that line creeps into our minds... "better to have loved and lost.... than never to have loved at all..." Sure. Whatever.
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