Sunday, November 9, 2014

Good Morning Jacob

Letter to my Son
Sunday, 9 November

Good Morning Jacob…

Drawings make better words when something incomprehensible needs to be said.  Today I needed utter black and white to replace the spoken word.  I’ll call it Sphinx:  141109.  Adding the date makes the title useful – like a journal entry. 

Of course, it is a woman.  If there is an enigma of the female sex for males it is mainly because they are so important to us.  Women are the center of our lives.  For this reason it is imperative we work their puzzle. 

I’d like to think I am done with politics.  I’ve sworn it off numerous times before.  It comes with an unhealthy constant agitation.  In a democracy the election appears as an end-point to the struggle.  In fact, the struggle begins anew once all the votes have been cast and counted.  Some people live for this endless battle of wits and ideas.  It wears me down.  I have other things to do.  Right now I feel like an alcoholic waking from a bender.  I swear to God, never again.  But you know how that goes.  Actually you don’t, but I do as do so many others. 

What strikes me is how close to intoxication romantic love can feel.  Is it any wonder we often exhibit poor judgment while under its influence?  I’m not talking about sexual desire here.  That’s a separate topic.  No, I’m referring to the insatiable interest we have in another individual.  The affair can become an obsession, especially if we’re sixteen.  We get territorial.  People might think us neurotic.  During this period of greatest intensity it might seem advisable to have our driver’s license suspended.  We should be warned not to work around heavy machinery.  Lovers are prone to loose fingers, even limbs, while in their distracted state.  Their impaired judgment makes them a danger to themselves and others.  It’s a blessing we don’t all fall passionately in love simultaneously.  Society could not survive such a lapse in attention. 

How likely it is government will one day prescribe a lithium-type drug to suppress our emotional passions.  Legislators will point to data that irrefutably proves lost worker productivity when one becomes romantically involved.  This is a personal indulgence we simply can’t afford in the competition that comes with global economics.  We have all experienced the self-destructive side-effects of extreme emotional involvement.  Like sexual desire, romantic love is biology run amuck.  Sensible people are quick to realize human desires are not in good taste. 

Show me the rational basis for a passionate embrace.  No one can say it puts food on the table or helps pay the mortgage.  These are tough times.  We require serious remedies from sober minds.  If you find yourself fantasizing about sharing your life with another then slow down.  Come to your senses.  Think of the pitfalls.  Rest assured there will be grief.  Romance is easily crushed.  Everyone has sung the blues more than once.  It gets worse.  You have heard of lover’s leap, haven’t you?

I’ve made my point.  Simply say No! to that lingering kiss, evening walks along the seashore or, heaven forbid, sharing a bed.  I know how wonderful it all sounds but that’s the devious nature of biology.  Before you know it you’re hopelessly hooked to another human being.  They are so unreliable.  Guess what happens next?  Before you know it, two people become three and sometimes four, five or more.  Now you are swamped in love.  You find yourself worrying over all of them.  It’s a nightmare.  Where’d all the good times go? 

Women and men:  what is the meaning of this?  For that matter – any two people falling in love.  I suspect there is a master plan here.  Maybe we are meant to get all tangled up with each other.  Alone we can focus.  We’re productive, resourceful… powerful.  We can be dangerous.  Falling in love helps diffuse our destructive potential.  We snuggle when we could be devising diabolical plans for world domination or, at the least, plundering our neighbor’s possessions.  Instead of warring against nature we develop a curious interest in words that rhyme.  We write silly verse about someone’s eyes or the smallness of their hands.  We allow ourselves to daydream.  We notice the clouds.  We stop and watch at length someone special doing nothing in particular.  That’s love.  It’s filled with stupid stuff that makes us feel right.  Funny, isn’t it?


No comments:

Post a Comment