Might makes right

How I love is who I am. It is not right or wrong; it is an ontological certitude and must be judged on this basis. I am not right for everyone, not everyone is right for me.

This is a new kind of thought for me. I thought that if I liked the way someone looked, and I was willing to put in the effort, then I would succeed by force of will.

We are all the raw materials from which others make what they need. I may be only this, or only that, but when I pair with the wrong person, they take the parts of me, change them into the thing that they are bound to have, and then reject the rest. The thing they make is their truth, but a truth only to them, not a reflective general truth that is a spoken reality, but it carries for them all of the facets and gravitas and consequence to them of the real thing.

I need to keep my heart safe. Hang on, the me of two years ago called, said he was going to kick my ass. I don’t mean that in a hermetic, cloistered way. I mean to say that I am the same as everyone. I rush on, ignoring all signs and symbols. I love my ass off, and until last Thursday it never occurred to me that there was a type of person who wouldn’t want that. I make the object of my attention into the single thing in my universe, I want to bask in it, hold it up with wonder. I want to use them to create before me the alpha and the omega.

Turns out that not everyone wants to be that, go figure.

Now, if I were taking apart whomever I found before me, and shaping those parts into an abuser, or Sousaphone player, or a dumbass, then to leave them would feel like the perfect thing to do. No, what I do is harmful only to myself. I use the parts of them and make the other half of me. I persist in this delusion as long as it will last, and then when they go, it tears me apart, because I have put them inside me, in my heart, and the hole they leave is bigger than the space they occupied.

I can’t do that anymore. Not even once more can I do it.

My actions or attitudes will never be ALWAYS right for any given person. I cannot expect them to accept the love I put out, because it may not be what they need.

It is not a matter of right or wrong, it is a matter of giving them what they need even if/especially if they need to have their guts stomped out.

That is an idea so foreign to me that it may take a while for me to understand.

Not to love someone with everything I have? Bizarre.

Hold something back? Unthinkable!

There is no standard for love. I need to be careful to avoid the type of person who does not have the desire or capacity to accept exactly everything I have.

I am only sure about what I feel. Sometimes there seems to be a correlation with the world at large, but I have recently given up looking for it.

I work very hard, murderously hard, for goals new and old. All of that sweat and discomfort will never seem wasted if I know there are good people in the world. Living and bringing life, teaching and learning, arrow and target, fish-stick and flounder.

I know there are lots of people that feel the same way, they are not heard, because they are shy or embarrassed. I, for one, am tired of lying back and resting on precedent to avoid the fall.

We are shuddering to a halt and I am tired of not celebrating the gifts that are all around us for the taking if we can manage to break the bonds of fealty to a system that has damned us.

No longer will I let things go by as they have; unadored, unreverered, unloved, untouched, unexplored, unplumbed, or lonely.

It is not labor to share love, it is relief. It is in us and when we can refuse the unnatural urge to be quiet, then we will get on with the productive work of living.

This I pledge to myself and the people of earth