Void of emotion 1 – June 20, 2010

It has been a while since I continued my explanation about love.  More and more I am understanding that people just don’t know what love is. I find this sad, but at the same time I understand it. Most of my life I have been taught that love is love. Then I was told love is emotion. Then I was told love is a power. Then I was told that love in undefinable. Then I was told that love will save us all. Okay. Which is it?

I am developing a headache. It is late, but I cannot sleep for another hour or so, so I must do something. I find it hard to believe that we confuse so easily the emotions that love conjures and love itself. We know that emotion is fickle, unreliable, and shifty. We know that emotion does not last, but we still seek to define love as emotion. Absurd. Yes, it gives us wonderful emotions, but sometimes it gives us horrible emotions. Usually we aren’t kidding when we say that love stinks. Sometimes it really does. But love is not emotion…it is an edifying force. It is the force that builds everything from buildings, to people, to wind, to relationships, and on and on and on. Everything that is constructed is done through love. And is this odd? It shouldn’t be. Think of any situation that you truly can define as loving. What is happening? Someone is trying to build something else up; trying to support something; trying to make something better; trying to increase the possibility of someone being in their life. In all these situation someone is attempting to edify something, and that force we use to accomplish our desires is love. I don’t know about other people, but when I am loving my car by washing it, or having its oil changed, there is not a whole lot of emotion involved. When I am teaching my girl how to read, there is not a whole lot of emotion involved in the teaching (but there certainly is a lot of frustration involved about the process). What I want people to understand is that love is much more than we allow it to be.

Another trying night – June 14, 2010

Tonight there was another accident.  One man, determined not to lose his opportunity to light a cigarette, unbuckled his seatbelt and proceeded to rummage around on the floor of his truck while travelling along at a high rate of speed.  Unfortunately for him and two other individuals, there were two trucks in front of him. Now, I saw unfortunately, but it was actually rather fortunate that he unbuckled his seatbelt, because if he had not, he would most likely have been sheered in half as the trailer of the truck in front of him sliced through the cab of his truck. As it was, he was knocked between the two front seats and pinned there. He may lose his legs and certainly lost a lot of blood, but he is alive. But his legs, millions of dollars of cargo later, thousands of dollars of medical expense, and multiple people in anguish all over a dropped cigarette lighter and the need for another nicotine fix.

I feel physically drained and emotionally tried. I don’t feel all that much emotion about the actual accident, but I do reflect upon how much distraction we allow in our lives and how often we seem to crash into others as we continue on our way without seeing what is in front of us. Had this driver known what was in front of him, perhaps he would have obeyed the speed limits, slowed down like everyone else was doing, and would have saved his legs and truck. There is a morale here, but I don’t want to pinpoint it so simply. Draw from it what you will. I am just tired, and I have seen enough blood today to want to think about it any more.

Jipped? – June 10, 2010

Last night I had a nice argument with the wife concerning a comment one of her friends used on her facebook page. I thought the comment was inappropriate since it utilized cultural slur. The word was jipped. Now, part of my wife’s argument is that it wasn’t spelled like “gypped”, but I killed that excuse very quickly. The wife then reiterated that she was sure no offense was meant, but when I asked her that if the friend had instead said that she felt, “jiewd” would it make it any better, she said it was different. But it isn’t different. Gypped refers the interactions with the Gypsy crowd and the sense of being cheated or of having received less than a fair trade. It is somewhat similar to the “jewed” comment others use to signify that they have received less than they desired from a transaction, or that someone has been overly frugal or cheap.

Just because we don’t understand the intentions or full meaning of what we say, does not excuse us when using the phrase. It is a phrase stereotyped for a specific cultural group, and as such is highly inappropriate. So I wondered, how many more of these phrases do we use without realizing it?

Unconditional Love – June 9, 2010

Unconditional Love

Like bandits without a clue, we hold love hostage.  First we attempt to blindfold its holder, and then bind the holder’s hands and mouth so as to restrain any negative or conflicting behavior.  Then we subtly whisper deceits into their ear with all the vile putrid we can spew about how much they will lose if they do not comply.  Then we sit back and expect things to pan out in our best interest.   And perhaps they do. . . . just not like we want them to.

I heard one person say that if some second person really cared for him that she would grant him a special favor.  It was nothing sinister or relatively inappropriate, but it was a little absurd. Perhaps it was in jest, but with the look on his face I highly doubted it was a joke.  So I waited for the response, and as it crept across the face of the second individual, I laughed.  I could see the indecision reflecting upon the face of the second, even as the elation of success overcame the face of the first.  I could see the second weighing the choices before her, even while watching the first display his undoubted assurance that this truly was a necessary display of affection and love.  Then I watched the dismay overshadow the elation as the second responded with a no.  Oh, the betrayal that filled the room and the first responded with an adolescent “fine”, and left. The second remained with a guilty conscience and fallen countenance. I found it sort of funny.

I wonder just how often we hold love hostage like this.  Whether in the work place, at home, at school, the store, with our children, church, or wherever we are we constantly hold others hostage by their supposed love for us, and threaten them with the withdraw of our love.  And we speak correctly:  we will stop edifying them if they do not comply, just as their denial to edify us in our desired fashion will leave us unfulfilled, and in part destroyed.  Thus the guilt and frustration of denial.  But the ultimate question we should be asking is whether or not it is unjust or inappropriate for us to deny?

It never ceases to amaze me that we condition our love and that of others on the most ridiculous things.  We tell people that they do not love us because they do not cater to a particular whim, but deny that they could possibly love us more than they love our pleasure.  We deny the idea that their behavior is a reflection of their greatness, and instead seek to make it a display of the greatness we wish to experience regardless of what it costs them.  And we see this with parents and their children, lovers and their beloved, teachers and students, bosses and employees, waitresses and patrons, etc.  Is it appropriate for us to put conditions on our love?

We talk about unconditional love between parents and children.  We seek the same sort of love with spouses and best friends.  We just don’t always expect it from ourselves. With an unconditional love, we will consistently seek the edification of our beloved despite any action or decision they make. We will try and help them be the best they can be, but we are not always to altruistic as we hope to be. It isn’t rarely that I hear someone complain that they have loved someone for so long and have received no fruit from the tree. I see parents depressed because they lack reciprocity from the child they supposedly love unconditionally. I am not saying the love no longer exists. What I am trying to demonstrate is that the love is no longer unconditional when the first party is actually seeking some sort of reciprocity for their love. How could it be? Anytime there is an expectation for return, the attempt is not unconditional. Unless we are careful, such a thing easily turns into distress, and we slack the intensity of our love so much that is almost ceases to exist.

Unromantic Love – June 8, 2010

Yesterday, while travelling, I began wondering how likely it would be that people accept my philosophy of love and hate rather than reject it. How much mental strain it would take to change their mode of thought, and how difficult would it be to release them from the unstable emotional standard usually accepted as the definition of Love. While in this thought, it occurred to me that much of the problem lies in our idea that Romance and Love are somehow equal.  I am not merely talking about the sensational and erotic form of Romance that gives us the sexually elating experiences we all crave, but more I am speaking about the Romantic idea in general. From flowers, to poetry, to language, to the lively pixy-like dance people do when beginning to date, to the idealistic and adventurous experiences surrounding the idea we accept as Romance. This all began during one of the rare occasions I turned on the radio. Mostly the songs bore me, and fill me with a dread of confusion. But this song made me think. It stated that Love is unstoppable.  Now I wondered what in the world the singer was trying to state, and realized that the song was about Romance and true Love’s ability to uphold a desire by persevering through the stormy trials seeking to detour it. What I began wondering is how confusing such a statement is.

Love is eternal. That is easily accepted. It will persevere through anything, but it will not always remain directed in the same direction. As we live emotionally, when the sensation weakens or we become accustomed to it, we begin to wander or seek something more extreme. We want to feel something greater, and often complain that the joy and exhilaration of love has waned. But we are mistaken. Love has not waned, disappeared, or changed at all. Love is unchangeable. It just exists. The intensity by which we utilize it, however, will change.  Our boredom, frustration, and feelings of offense will distract the direction in which we utilize our love. And thus, to say that Love is unstoppable in the context of the song is somewhat misleading. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that we, being consistent with our love, are unstoppable. It is we who persevere through the storms of life to maintain our loving objective. Love gives us the tools and erupts the sensationally emotional and mental criteria that keep us on tract, but we ourselves are the culprit behind our endurance. Love is merely a tool that keeps us moving forward.

So I thought about Romance and Love, and concluded that most of us confuse the two. Love edifies, and as simple as that seems, many will reject it. Romance is the idealistic sentiment, the fantastic imagination, the fascination and attachment we develop for someone or something else.  And though we use Love to edify that Romance and keep it thriving, the two concepts are not equal or similar. I have stated before that there is no passion in Love, and that remains correct. Love is a force that edifies, just as Hate is a force that destroys. They have no other direction, but we do, and the various parts of the soul of man will direct each force to accomplish its desires. If our desires prove to be everlasting, our love will appear unstoppable simply because we will not cease to edify our beloved. Love will increase the Romance. Love will keep us ahead. Love will push us to endure the trials, and Hate will keep away deterrents. Ultimately, Love and Hate together will make US unstoppable, not the other way around.

Sexual Identity? – June 6, 2010

I’m tired of the whole sexuality battle. I think it’s great that people are so comfortable with their sexual preference that they don’t feel the need to hide it, but why in the world should I care about it? How ridiculous to label yourself by a sexual preference. Does that really make up who you really are? Are you worth something special simply because you are the best practicing hetero or homosexual person around? Does it really up your self-worth to know that you are either causing others discomfort, going against the mainstream, settling into a crowd, or simply to know you are not alone? It seems to me that it is better to be defined by our industriousness and our accomplishments. Sure, we can be accomplished in achieving the civil liberties and equal rights for a certain sexually oriented crowd, but we don’t have to be a participant in that crowd to receive the accolades. Or perhaps they are as ostracizing and bias as other crowds towards those not of their same persuasion. Really, I don’t care who the latest person some celebrity is going to sleep with. What does it matter? Sexual orientation doesn’t make someone a better actor, better athlete, better news caster, better singer, better parent, better anything. Well, maybe it will make you a better lover of your beloved, but really . . . why do people care so much.
I know the arguments that heterosexuals do not understand the plight of the homosexual because their practices are acceptable to the common public, and therefore not as what? Important? Or just not as inflammatory? I still see it as a steamy load of prime steer manure. There are plenty of heterosexual couples that feel that they must hide their relationship for fear of public ridicule. We are still a society obsessed with skinniness, and some people feel ashamed to be attracted to anyone less than the “ideal” person. There are those turned on by s/m, bondage, nerds, and other groups not usually part of the “in” crowd who remain hidden. But though they may want to be in the open, are they? Some may be, but sexual practice has generally been accepted as something between the couple, and not something that needs to be shared with the perverted and voyeuristic crowd. Our personal pleasures are our personal pleasures. Why must we attempt to push them on other people or receive acceptance for them? Really, who should care? None of us should care.
I agree that there are certain moral implications for certain behaviors as defined by church and state. As a whole, a lot of our ideas are still deep grained in traditional Christianity. But the more people deviate from the foundation of Christianity, the more accepted these practices come into society. Whether the sexual practice is morally reprehensible is not the issue. The public display and announcement of the practice is deplorable. When it comes down to it, who cares? Nobody. Only those seeking a pornographic style fix from the lifestyle of another. Only those who cannot find a personal identity outside the identities given by others. Only those who want the fame, the enjoyment of the shock factor, and who are not satisfied with individual glory. I understand the desire to be part of a cause, but just as I heard one person once say to me that they would vote for a woman or black man for president simply because they were a woman or black regardless of their politics or whatever harm they would do the country, and they would vote for them to be able to tell their children that they were part of the movement that elected the first woman or black man to the U.S. presidency, the sexual arguments and declarations are just as foolish.

Self-Confidence – June 4, 2010

Tonight I had a discussion about why my heart is so closed, and why I don’t seem to want to let others into it. Well, it was more like an argument than a discussion, but same principle. The truth of the matter is that I want to let others into my heart . . . but I can’t: my heart won’t allow it. But not for the reasons most would think. It is possible to penetrate stone cold barriers that surround me, but it take a very special key to do that; a key that most of the people around me do not possess. That key is self-confidence.

I am not speaking about someone who is an arrogant turd, or who thinks that others are less than they are simply because they cannot produce the same thing. What I am referring to is the person who knows who they are, knows what they can do, knows the best and worst about themselves, and who is confident enough to stand tall and declare it without the necessity of comparison to others. It doesn’t matter that one person is a better carpenter than another. It doesn’t matter that one person can sing louder and more sweetly than another. It doesn’t matter if one person appears to have a more commonly pleasing physique than another. What matters is what we think, what we know, and what we truly accept as truth.

I am sick of hearing the false and deceiving humility many of us spew. We depreciate our achievements to others in hopes that they will refute our declaration and tell us how wonderful of a job we did. I don’t mean this to say that we cannot see the flaws in our work, and as such we should almost expect others to see them as well, but we shouldn’t announce them with the false intention of having someone refute us. In essence this is setting someone up to call us a liar, and we are the ones who produced the object. How pathetic of us.

Why can’t we accept that we are good? Why can’t we acknowledge that we can be really great at whatever we do, even if we are not perfect at it yet? Why don’t more people spend time trying to know themselves instead of comparing everything to everything else? If you ask someone if their work is any good, most will respond with something that says: “well I’m not as good as that guy, but. . .” or “I don’t think I’m all that good, but what do you think?” It makes me sick. Frankly, it shouldn’t matter what others think as far as us knowing whether or not we are good. It should matter what they think as far as popularity or marketability goes, but ultimately so what? We are good, and if what we produce is the best we can produce, it shouldn’t matter if others don’t like it. Find a new audience if you need one, but don’t let someone else depreciate the best you can do simply because they compare it to something else that someone with more experience, more possible talent, or someone more conventional is able to do.

I don’t understand all the self-deprecation that is going on. If you tell me you think your work is crap, then despite what I think of it, I will agree that it is crap. Do not insult me by giving me something that you think is less than the best you could produce under the circumstances that existed when you produced it. You endorse a produce with your name, it better be a reflection of your own personal worth; and if your worth is what causes you do stand before me and declare that you think your work is not your best or not good enough for you, then why in this world would I care to have it, see it, or much less comment on it?

Understanding – June 3, 2010

I am unsure how to deal with the mental anguish that overcomes me in moments of confusion and distress. A deep depression overshadows any joy or sense of exhilaration I would otherwise feel for anything that typically would cause me pleasure. I cannot find relief in any fashion: not from others and not from the pen. Why can’t I let things go? Why must I hold onto every shred of confusion and manipulate it, turn it, examine it, until I either understand it or refute it for its absurdity? Why? And I may never know.

Years ago, a beautiful woman told me that I over-analyze everything, and perhaps she is correct. But that is how I am. I think, and I reason, and I try and make sense of everything around me. But I cannot seem to grasp the ridiculous decisions people make, nor their lack of explanation of why they make them. I am tired of hearing people respond that they don’t know why they reacted or behaved in a specific manner, and even more tired of hearing people back their decisions with the ludicrous explanation that this is just how it is. Whatever happened to the pursuit of understanding?

Life – June 3, 2010

Life, at its fullest, is constant reflection of good or ill; notwithstanding the superb and grandiose by which we give life meaning (or often the infernal pit we perceive). The simplistic reality of life yields nothing but what we individually and actively derive from it. Though subjection defines the attribute we ascribe to life, there is no collective mass that rob us of what we rightfully attain. Though circumstance conflicts aspiration, when we successfully accomplish our design it is by adhering to the precepts and criteria eternally proscribed which surrender to us our desire. Can coincidence therefore dictate the criteria of our lives by which we govern ourselves? Can chance overwhelm determination? Will luck or detriment define us without our consent or do we retain control amidst the onslaught of circumstance?

This is It – June 2, 2010

My dad once demonstrated to me just how subjective our language is. He asked me to find a single word that could be described with non-comparative words, and I couldn’t do it. He then showed me that, in most of our languages, we can only explain what we know by comparing it to other things that we have experienced. Thus we cannot define the taste of salt because nothing else tastes like it. Everything we experience, therefore, loses its uniqueness simply because we must compare it to something else in order to share it. If we cannot find the experiences or methods for explanation, we must transform our definition in order for others to relate to it.

This same concept has become the common way for us to define everything; even those things that should not be subjective. We have leapt from the parapet of global definition, and created instead the idea of, “well, that’s what it means to me.” And that is ridiculous. This has resulted in so much confusion that we really don’t know what each other is talking about; even in the most glorious and outreaching comments we make.

For example, take the phrase, “I love you.” I have sought someone to describe or define that statement for many years, and all I receive is flowery imagery followed by phrases like, “it isn’t something you can define,” and “there aren’t words to express,” and the famous “you know what I mean.” Well, I don’t know what you mean. I never have, and unless a global standard is set, I never will. So my response to each inquiry has always been a resounding “bull crap!” When someone tells me they love me, damn it, I want to know what they mean.

So I spent a lot of years searching a true definition of love, and I found it. The reason for all of this that goes far beyond any discussion with my father, and perhaps I will explain it later, but for now it will have to suffice that I can now give an absolute standard definition for both love and hate. Taking out all emotion, all mental imagery, all situational subjectivity here are the definitions:

Love:  The edifying force of being.

Hate: The destructive force of being.

And now, I’ll explain them.