A Terrible Longing
Every now and then, I succumb to a woeful state of mind. I think it’s best described as a terrible longing. I do my best to avoid the pain.
It stuns with its ferocity; it physically and emotionally wounds. I’m left choking on every breath. No good comes from feeling this way.
But then, it was one of those gray, indeterminate winter days. Not nearly cold enough to grab one’s attention and elicit a grudging admiration for Nature’s icy mood. Neither was it warm enough to feel refreshing. The earth was merely grumbling in its sleep.
I felt it coming. I resisted the urge to sneak peeks (for the millionth time) at a photograph or two. I tried to divert my attention elsewhere…anywhere. Despite that, the cold gray crept in.
The burning in my gut began.
I was overcome by a terrible longing.
What is it, really, that I long for? The pain, you see, doesn’t come with a label or an explanation. My simple heart simply feels, and then hands the whole sorry mess to the brain to sort out. I must muddle through, somehow, to reach something akin to understanding. I’m pretty good at muddling through, though. I tend to persevere in such things. So I asked myself, repeatedly: “What are you longing for?”
“To be loved,” popped quickly to mind. Yes, there’s always that.
I won’t deny my need to be loved, but I honestly don’t think it constitutes the root of my longing.
I think it’s the far greater need to love.
I’ve mentioned it often enough; I’m comfortable in my own company…in fact, I’m growing ever more reclusive. I know that I am loved…not by all that many…but by enough. I know I love myself (despite myself). I know that I am loved; therefore, I know that my need to be loved is not the source of my terrible longing.
I hunger to love. I hunger for the human touch.
I can think of no greater, more satisfying, spectacular or resplendent state of mind than to be in love…to be truly, madly and deeply in love with someone (best, yet, if for a lifetime). Being in love changes everything. From that rapturous state, one radiates happiness to the world at large. And that is a good thing. When in love, all of my faculties seek to experience only the most beautiful, most gracious, most blessed and inspired facets of life. Loving someone is my heart’s North Star. It pulls at me the way the moon pulls at the sea, all to make me a better human being. Far cheerier to live one’s life devoted to bringing pleasure, happiness, rapture, delight, succor, warmth and shelter to another, than to pursue selfish-interests.
I hunger to love…as I recede deeper into the shadows.
It stuns with its ferocity; it physically and emotionally wounds. I’m left choking on every breath. No good comes from feeling this way.
But then, it was one of those gray, indeterminate winter days. Not nearly cold enough to grab one’s attention and elicit a grudging admiration for Nature’s icy mood. Neither was it warm enough to feel refreshing. The earth was merely grumbling in its sleep.
I felt it coming. I resisted the urge to sneak peeks (for the millionth time) at a photograph or two. I tried to divert my attention elsewhere…anywhere. Despite that, the cold gray crept in.
The burning in my gut began.
I was overcome by a terrible longing.
What is it, really, that I long for? The pain, you see, doesn’t come with a label or an explanation. My simple heart simply feels, and then hands the whole sorry mess to the brain to sort out. I must muddle through, somehow, to reach something akin to understanding. I’m pretty good at muddling through, though. I tend to persevere in such things. So I asked myself, repeatedly: “What are you longing for?”
“To be loved,” popped quickly to mind. Yes, there’s always that.
I won’t deny my need to be loved, but I honestly don’t think it constitutes the root of my longing.
I think it’s the far greater need to love.
I’ve mentioned it often enough; I’m comfortable in my own company…in fact, I’m growing ever more reclusive. I know that I am loved…not by all that many…but by enough. I know I love myself (despite myself). I know that I am loved; therefore, I know that my need to be loved is not the source of my terrible longing.
I hunger to love. I hunger for the human touch.
I can think of no greater, more satisfying, spectacular or resplendent state of mind than to be in love…to be truly, madly and deeply in love with someone (best, yet, if for a lifetime). Being in love changes everything. From that rapturous state, one radiates happiness to the world at large. And that is a good thing. When in love, all of my faculties seek to experience only the most beautiful, most gracious, most blessed and inspired facets of life. Loving someone is my heart’s North Star. It pulls at me the way the moon pulls at the sea, all to make me a better human being. Far cheerier to live one’s life devoted to bringing pleasure, happiness, rapture, delight, succor, warmth and shelter to another, than to pursue selfish-interests.
I hunger to love…as I recede deeper into the shadows.
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posted by Jonas | 12/12/2006 03:17:00 PM
4 Comments:
Because I didn't find you until now, my comment is far behind the calendar.
I'm at a loss for words after reading this, except for:
I think it’s the far greater need to love.
That, is by far, the greatest truth about myself that I have ever read.
Better late than never, Fiona!
I'm delighted you dropped by to visit. I would like to write something meaningful and profound, but profundity (generally) escapes me. Let me just say that I trust the souls who need to love. They bring joy to the world.
Yes, to love is among the pinnacle of what makes humanity good.
What do you think of unrequited love, however? Plenty of poets have decried the pain of the rejection. I am just sort of playing devil's advocate here. Some people are afraid of giving their entire being in love for the reason that they risk literally everything.
Raymond, you can find my take on unrequited love in the "Gambling Man" entry.
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