{Written before the incident with Titani, she will be missed.}
Maybe i should hear instead…the truth is a terrible thing to behold, we say we want to hear it, often we get our senses in a twist when faced with the possibility of anything but. Only to turn around, literally flee from it and at best, actively refrain from listening when it is served, pretty bound in ribbons or cold and clean-cut. Either way, it puts new meaning to humbled-by-the-word, to hear, listen and gain from truths told to us. It is with this recent enlightenment that I have begun to think that maybe I should finally give in and come to terms with the painful reality that there is no ‘how-to’ book on how to get through pain. Pain, be it; physical, emotional, spiritual, imagined, real, sought, stumbled-upon, short-lived, long-suffered, dull, sharp, etc … is simply, as I remember not to long hearing from a certain incredible someone, a reflection of perceived wrongs. The mind tells us what is painful and what is not. Because pain is seemingly universal, and as such, a definitely appropriate portal through which to study man; his experienced exposure, civilization, and socialization, stretch and limits, we often mistakenly also assume that everyone can relate to what we feel, forgetting it’s uncanny uniqueness. Someone mentioned that different people deal/experience pain differently, {remember the part about me hearing and learning to listen too?…}, it is a callous misconception on my part thus to imagine that an event, experienced by both of us will affect us in distinctly similar ways. Unfortunately, pain just like love, transcends every plane of existence, bridging the gaps between subliminal and supraliminal, engulfing us entirely so that we often believe in it with every fiber of our beings, most often against our own sets of better judgment. For this reason, a marginally painful experience might seem all the more unbearable when perceived by differently socialized and contextualized individuals. It is no lie that mankind is enslaved by our own emotions, and it is no help that the strongest emotion is love…
almost ridiculously necessitating that we are oft doomed to fall prey of its harp strings, cutting at our hearts and ripping our insides apart.
Begging the question, why is something so defined to embody all that is good and supreme capable of such troubling effects? Yet still beyond all logic and above it, rules of cause and effect cease, as it is a cause and effect in and on its own.
Love. TSK!
A confusing state that. In a quest to find the meaning of it all, TIME magazine stumbled upon reasons why scientists steer clear of such mushy research until recently, yet still, the question remained fuzzy and uncannily unclear. I know that romantic love can be strong and overbearing, especially if you happen to have one of said types of love, and so are brotherly love and platonic affections, yet, now, I feel that maternal love has surely got to be the strongest. Everything else pales in comparison. It feels like I could loose everything I own, little and big, precious and unique, cheap or priceless, and the feeling of loss / the pain of these, would barely compare to the pain of loosing a child, planned or otherwise. It’s almost as if they come with an in built love and cherish command.
That loss is terrible, downright cruel and agonizing, and sometimes, the pain is so acute, feels like your entire body is on fire. How do you explain this to anyone, how do you compare this pain to any other pain, what yard stick would you reference? It is raw, it is searing, it is prolonged and it runs deep. It drains, exhausts, and completely engulfs you. Very little else seems to matter, make sense, measure up. Nothing seems half as bad, nor worth the trouble. The tears never stop running, always welling at the back of your eyes, a whiff of baby powder, an infant’s giggles and chuckles, anything, even a misplaced word, push the trigger and suddenly you can’t stop yourself from tearing. Everything suddenly transforms into a very painful alarm clock, never quitre letting you forget even for a second. Necessitating an awkward display of confusion when you have to find a reason why, when asked.
*sigh. Pain. How do you get over it? Even worse is the numbing realization that …
Calla 