After all


Image of a desrted street in the afternoon

After an afternoon of tea…/ http://www.robpiercy.com

 

    "Would it have been worth while,
    To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
    To have squeezed the universe into a ball..."

Image of a ball in a palm

After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets…  /mc528.blogspot.com

 

                        - The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
                          by T.S. Eliot, Lines 90-92
   

For a full copy of the poem, click here.

For Anthony Hopkins' reading of the poem, click here.

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The deepest, the sweetest

 

The first cut is the deepest, so says the song. But should we be talking about cuts and bruises – when we’re a day away from the V-day? Yay! We should celebrate, that’s the attitude. Yeah… 😉

 

Blurred image of a street at night time

The heart does keep beating, uhuh./ http://www.tumblr.com

 

I mean, shouldn’t we be glad we’re centuries away from old practices? Yes, am talking about that tribe where a woman was supposed to expose herself to the elements – hails, snows and bears – come winter time because her husband or sons have been killed in the battle. Socially, she was expected to commit suicide, the first chance she could get. The premise being, a woman without a male in her life could not get along in life. Pretty hard and fierce, huh? That was in their milieu, in their time, in that particular tribe… Just happy I wasn’t born then and there. Well, would you? I didn’t think so… 🙂

 

So, let’s go back to our topic of the day – romance or lack of, hehe. There is no argument that having a romantic relationship or being in one, is the best condition an adult could aspire to. Who wouldn’t want to be loved? Who would refuse a chance to love with all of one’s strength and might and shame? Everybody wants that, no kidding. Can everybody have that? Nah… That’s the sad part. Love doesn’t come everyday. Nor does it make a visit every other day. Not even once a week. It knocks at one’s door, let’s say, once or twice every three years. I mean, the ardent kind… And not all who knocks gets the benefit of an open door, gentle smile and warm hospitality. No. I don’t know if it’s a modern phenomenon but people nowadays, myself including, are very sparing and picky when it comes to offering visitors attention and affection…

 

Image of young children loving each other

People often remember the first time as the sweetest/ fionamcarthur.com

And so, Valentines Day approaches and all one could do was to go back to the first time his or her heart was broken, stepped on, fed to the dogs, etcetera… And deal with hazy memories of smiling foolishly because of nothing in particular. Of remembering sweetness. Tenderness. Dreaming wildly. Presuming all too hastily. Of recognizing oneself to be a silly and stupid and insane creature – in general… And being glad for it, for heaven’s sake! Well, that’s love: the first time. People say it’s the sweetest and its cut, the deepest. It goes straight to the core. It offsets one’s balance, it blurs the vision and it confuses one no end. It is debilitating, to say the least… It does not kill. Although most everyone would say that undergoing that phase is very similar to dying. I guess, it involves enduring a considerable amount of pain, yes.

 

But we survive, another day. To live out the pain, perhaps? To outgrow the silliness? To recoup sanity, hehe. To meet life at its terms, maybe? To learn that in the course of our travel, we  come across  a variety of experience – love and non-love. Acceptance and denial. Understanding and conflict. Real and surreal. Noble and gross. Down-to-earth and highfalutin’. Warm and cold. Near and distant. Welcoming and aloof. Kind and vile. All sorts… And for all our talks of having learned our lessons, knowing our limits and being wisened up somehow, we fall again… Into the dang pit and no wiser than the first time.  Oh, well…

 

But that is just it. We do hope to spread love in its various forms and meet it as well, in the first corner. Uh, maybe that’s getting one’s hopes up – too soon and too close.  At any rate, no one readily gives up, I guess. Love is about finding and being found. The search may take too long or there may just seem to be too many turns. But wherever and whenever, still, one hopes it to be deep and sweet, as the first time… And hopefully, enduring. 😉

 

Image of hearts

Sending some love your way… 😉 :)/ footage.shutterstock.com

 

Happy Hearts Day to all! Have a love-filled Valentines. 🙂

 

Inside the box, past the labels

 

Box and label. Box and label. Box and label. Box and label. Box and label. Box and label. Box and label. Box and label. Box and label. Box and label. Box and label. Box and label. Box and label. Box and label. Box and label.

 

Box and label. Box and label. Box and label…

 

Image of three labeled boxes arranged according to sizes

We box things to unclutter, to keep them out of the way/ blog.beazer.com

 

 

Box – a cubical vessel to contain things and make them manageable

 

Label – a tag put to be reminded easily, with little or no thinking

 

 

 

 

 

Boxes and labels are indeed handy. They do make life easier… That is, until it’s time to unpack – to look for the things that we really need… 🙂

 

Image of opened boxes

We must open the boxes to find what we need/ blog.salazarpackaging.com