Sunday Musings - May 14, 2023
I have long been aware, at some level, of the mystery of love; romantic/erotic or nonromantic. One meets someone and one’s heart beats a little faster. One may become tongue tied and a babbling idiot. It is no surprise that some have compared this state to that of a temporary state of insanity. One may lose all sense of logic or reason. In this state of temporary insanity one can overlook the most glaring flaws in oneself and the other person. One can convince oneself love will wash the most soiled canvas of experience clean allowing the two to sail off into the sunset paragons of virtue and bliss. The fact that others may see the flaw of this insanity is obviously due to their jealously of one’s bliss.
Perhaps even more mysterious is the unselfish devotion to a treasured friend who becomes mentally and/or physically disabled. Long after the blush of love has faded; long after any ability to perform intellectual or sexual acrobatics; long after even the ability to share a reality something remains resulting in the tender 24-hour care of one’s once vibrant friend.
I have long been awed by such relationships. I have sat with couples married nearly 70 years who could not wait to visit at the end of a long busy day. I have enjoyed time with those whose soul mate has been deceased for 20 or 40 years who still carry the spark of love with them. That very same spark may be one of the motivations for embracing life even as transition time draws closer. I have close friends who I know are available whenever I say I need them.
Perhaps the strongest ties to a friendship - romantic or non-romantic - is the openness to what one wants to learn from that person and what one has to offer that person; the knowledge the other has something that one wants/needs if one is to grow into the next stage of one’s journey.
People have approached me and said, “I will teach you. Come sit with me.” Such was the case with David, the Tlingit Indian elder who embraced me as a student, I was a male whom he knew was much too young at age 32 to know what it meant to be a man. Nearly every day i would sit with David while he carved beautiful creations some of which would later be found in museums. While he carved, he shared ancient stories to illustrate what it meant to be at peace with oneself and all that exist.
I continue to be blessed by teachers, some of whom ignite the spark of romantic love. Often, I cannot distinguish between romantic passion and a passionate attraction which I know has accompanied us on many life journeys of brother, sister, mentor, mentee, lover, parent, boss, subject or some other role. Recently I spent a weekend with a woman who continues to prod me to focus on what can be and not the apparent obstacles. Many of my teachers have been such powerful women who were ready to use a metaphorical blow torch to ignite a passion or passions within me. Occasionally those teachers were, for a period, romantic partners which grew into deep, passionate friendships, the framework of which became a lifelong graduate seminar.
As I age, I feared passion would subside. Yet, just as I think I might focus on the miles i have yet to walk before I sleep for eternity, I am a young teenager who is filled with the excitement of new possibility. Perhaps the new teacher is a man, a woman, a flower, another animal, or the artist which is Mother Earth. Perhaps the spark feels intensely erotic. More often it goes unlabeled; experienced as an awakening of every dancing cell in my body. For a moment, an hour, a day, or eternity I am brought to the apex of a flame which could cut through the densest of material.
Those who manage to keep passion alive in a romantic or non-romantic friendship for 60 or 70 years cannot wait to visit and learn from each other at the end of each day. They know they may “have miles to go before they sleep.” (With gratitude to Robert Frost). They also know they only have this moment to embrace life.
Passion is the impetus for conception. Wise people know that passion fuels all creation. Some would suggest that passion and awe are kissing cousins. I tend to agree. Each experience we encounter can awaken that sense of awe.
As we in the United States celebrate Mother’s Day perhaps, we could open to embracing the mothers in our life with an expectation of possibility and awe. The awe might be an appreciation for their survival strength despite addiction, mental illness, abuse, poverty, or other hardships. Perhaps we know we cannot know what it has been like to walk their path. Perhaps we can withhold judgment and see what is invisible, hear what is silent, feel what a is numb. Perhaps we can love without fear or expectations.
Written May 14, 2023
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org
I have long been aware, at some level, of the mystery of love; romantic/erotic or nonromantic. One meets someone and one’s heart beats a little faster. One may become tongue tied and a babbling idiot. It is no surprise that some have compared this state to that of a temporary state of insanity. One may lose all sense of logic or reason. In this state of temporary insanity one can overlook the most glaring flaws in oneself and the other person. One can convince oneself love will wash the most soiled canvas of experience clean allowing the two to sail off into the sunset paragons of virtue and bliss. The fact that others may see the flaw of this insanity is obviously due to their jealously of one’s bliss.
Perhaps even more mysterious is the unselfish devotion to a treasured friend who becomes mentally and/or physically disabled. Long after the blush of love has faded; long after any ability to perform intellectual or sexual acrobatics; long after even the ability to share a reality something remains resulting in the tender 24-hour care of one’s once vibrant friend.
I have long been awed by such relationships. I have sat with couples married nearly 70 years who could not wait to visit at the end of a long busy day. I have enjoyed time with those whose soul mate has been deceased for 20 or 40 years who still carry the spark of love with them. That very same spark may be one of the motivations for embracing life even as transition time draws closer. I have close friends who I know are available whenever I say I need them.
Perhaps the strongest ties to a friendship - romantic or non-romantic - is the openness to what one wants to learn from that person and what one has to offer that person; the knowledge the other has something that one wants/needs if one is to grow into the next stage of one’s journey.
People have approached me and said, “I will teach you. Come sit with me.” Such was the case with David, the Tlingit Indian elder who embraced me as a student, I was a male whom he knew was much too young at age 32 to know what it meant to be a man. Nearly every day i would sit with David while he carved beautiful creations some of which would later be found in museums. While he carved, he shared ancient stories to illustrate what it meant to be at peace with oneself and all that exist.
I continue to be blessed by teachers, some of whom ignite the spark of romantic love. Often, I cannot distinguish between romantic passion and a passionate attraction which I know has accompanied us on many life journeys of brother, sister, mentor, mentee, lover, parent, boss, subject or some other role. Recently I spent a weekend with a woman who continues to prod me to focus on what can be and not the apparent obstacles. Many of my teachers have been such powerful women who were ready to use a metaphorical blow torch to ignite a passion or passions within me. Occasionally those teachers were, for a period, romantic partners which grew into deep, passionate friendships, the framework of which became a lifelong graduate seminar.
As I age, I feared passion would subside. Yet, just as I think I might focus on the miles i have yet to walk before I sleep for eternity, I am a young teenager who is filled with the excitement of new possibility. Perhaps the new teacher is a man, a woman, a flower, another animal, or the artist which is Mother Earth. Perhaps the spark feels intensely erotic. More often it goes unlabeled; experienced as an awakening of every dancing cell in my body. For a moment, an hour, a day, or eternity I am brought to the apex of a flame which could cut through the densest of material.
Those who manage to keep passion alive in a romantic or non-romantic friendship for 60 or 70 years cannot wait to visit and learn from each other at the end of each day. They know they may “have miles to go before they sleep.” (With gratitude to Robert Frost). They also know they only have this moment to embrace life.
Passion is the impetus for conception. Wise people know that passion fuels all creation. Some would suggest that passion and awe are kissing cousins. I tend to agree. Each experience we encounter can awaken that sense of awe.
As we in the United States celebrate Mother’s Day perhaps, we could open to embracing the mothers in our life with an expectation of possibility and awe. The awe might be an appreciation for their survival strength despite addiction, mental illness, abuse, poverty, or other hardships. Perhaps we know we cannot know what it has been like to walk their path. Perhaps we can withhold judgment and see what is invisible, hear what is silent, feel what a is numb. Perhaps we can love without fear or expectations.
Written May 14, 2023
Jimmy F Pickett
coachpickett.org
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