sǝuoſ ǝuıɥsunS

Is it just me, or is pain an interesting subject when it comes to love and relationships? I don’t mean that pitiful chubby dudes get all the hot babes, cause they don’t (even though sometimes I think they should.) What I mean is that connecting with people around pain and damage seems a lot easier than connecting with people’s vibrant beauty.

Let’s face it, vibrant beauty is probably more threatening and scary than it is rare and wonderful. And when you’re in the presence of real charm, remarkable wit, and unearthly beauty you can be sure that everyone in the room, down the street, and all week long feels the same way you do. So it’s better, perhaps safer, to sit hunched over a cup of tea and talk about pain and sorrow.

I gotta say that I do have a hang-up where if the content isn’t somewhat painful, then I tend to blow it off as “fun” or “superficial.” I got this idea into my little head sometime in my childhood, maybe while my parents were screaming at each other in the kitchen, that serious things are truthful and have depth and dimension, where as the lightness of my experience (which makes up the better part of it) is disposable. Yet, isn’t it really all about balance?

Over coffee with a friend today I was trying to describe the weight of the past, and unprocessed obstacles, versus the delight of the moment. How in my experience, these two things coexist, and without resolution, or at least some degree of progress, either my moody afternoons are ruined by my light and delightful opera singing and silly dance moves, or my quiet moments of joy are sucked into the vortex of weight and damage by the undissolved particles of hurt and pain. I don’t think that truth and depth are the same thing as pain and hurt. I also don’t think that all delight or joy are superficial. Rather, it hasn’t been my experience (yet, perhaps) that I really have a choice in terms of my mechanics. I am, after all, the product of my total parts, and the environment I grew up in, and the world I have navigated through. I have never said to myself “Sunshine, today we’re going to look on the bright side” and then proceeded to look on the bright side. Resolutions like these tend to make me snicker, but not because I haven’t seen them work beautifully in other people, but because when I make them… I break them. Not a month later, with a snap of the fingers and an encouraging “good try mate!” but usually within seconds of determining my resolve. No, for me, it’s a matter of clearing the past, and putting one foot in front of the other. My brain is generally the last to know when we’ve made collective progress.

But standing beneath the white blossoms of the jasmine tree, looking up at the blue sky above me, feeling the sun on my face, and the delicate breeze in my hair filled my heart with love and compassion this afternoon. Just as sure as I walked the streets tonight beneath a bright moon with tears streaming down my face because I could no longer contain my grief. For me, the path is through the middle. I am not at all afraid to wallow in my heartbreak, nor am I at all ashamed to sing, and dance, and revel in the lightness of my heart’s love and hope. the problem for me appears to be striking the balance, and existing peacefully in the space between.