It’s all about the love today. So I will give you some thoughts and diversions on that topic. I admit it — I love love. I’m silly for it, in all its forms. There’s no point in being cynical about it because the only way to understand it is to let it wash over you. The cynicism comes, I think, because we’ve been misinformed that it’s a good feeling, this act of love (and it is a verb. But you know that…). It’s not a good feeling. It rips you apart and breaks you. “All I ever learned from love was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya.” Leonard Cohen wrote that. Anyone who’s ever loved knows what he means there. So why can’t we hate this thing that destroys us — in some cases daily — and turns rational thought on its head to make idiots of us all?
Because the risk is always less than the reward. Always.
Saw this first thing in the morning and it made me happy. It’s called the Rosette Nebula. See? The reward always wins.
So, here are your diversions. Just a few of my favorite movie clips, a few songs (some old, some new) and proof that even scientists can’t escape the thing that would seem to run counter to control and logic. In fact, I would go so far as to say that much of our great work in this world as humans — in all endeavors — is inspired by love. Isn’t it wonderful.
From Practical Magic:
- Young Sally: He will hear my call a mile away, he will whistle my favourite song, he can ride a pony backwards-
- Young Gilly: What are you doing?
- Young Sally: I’m summoning up a true love spell called amas veritas, he can flip pancakes in the air, he will be marvellously kind, and his favourite shape will be a star. And he’ll have one green eye, one blue.
- Young Gilly: I thought you never wanted to fall in love.
- Young Sally: That’s the point. The guy I dreamed up doesn’t exist, and if he doesn’t exist, I’ll never die of a broken heart.
“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, ‘O me! O life!…of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless – of the cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here – that life exists, an identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.’ That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”
Sometimes it’s not about love at all, just about missing that stupid ape. (I want to dance to this song in the worst way…)
But always, there’s this: