Thursday, January 30, 2014

Love is ironic

Today is one of those nights whereby I am restless to share my thoughts. I have been watching over my nephew and the horrible realization that he will grow up and face a life of comprehension one day has just smacked me hard. There is nothing morbid about it, just a casual observation that we are ultimately selfish. Think about it, we would never let the people we love be hurt because when they are hurt, so are we... But why are we so willing to give life to a baby who would inevitably be hurt? Or is that love so great that we are willing to suffer the multitude of hurt our children will face in their lives and that our greatest gift isn't the curse of inevitable pain, but the joy of having lived? I mean, life is the opportunity to experience. And I believe that nothing feels as strongly as humans do. So fierce in our convictions, capable of virtually anything based on percieved feelings. But he seems so happy, blissfully ignorant of the expectations we bestow upon each other.

I was recalling when I hugged him earlier today and he cringed away from me. I thought nothing of it at that time, because I understand he is a baby and babies do what they want, without any consideration for anyone else's feelings or convenience. But then I realized that we learn to expect from others and therefore we anticipate expectations and live in fear that perhaps we have disappointed someone. We learn to tolerate what we naturally would not, perhaps even welcome it, because of love. I would return the hug of anyone I care for because I understand that while I am under no obligation to, it is expected simply because we love. We all act a certain way, under certain circumstances, to certain people because we assume it is what they need. We can't very well ask someone who is hiding pain if she needs comfort, can we? Because that might just drive the wall further up or the person further away. So we do what we think is expected of us, out of love.

Funny how we constantly need to be reassured of our worth through someone else. Perhaps love is all we need. I would rather be imperfect and well loved than damn near perfect and adored but not loved at all. Stupid how we wonder if our actions or words affect someone else unintentionally. Sometimes we lie to our loved ones because we know they love us enough to lie to us too. A simple example is my papa and I when we have dinner together. I believe that he saves the last morsel of every dish for me, no matter how much he likes it because he thinks that maybe I want it too when in fact he may just be full. But if I knew it was something he likes, I'd tell him I'm full or that I dislike it just I could have the satisfaction of seeing him eat something I know he likes. We lie constantly to those we love because we do not want them to deprive themselves at all. Do you guys know the story of a mother who lied to her children that she loves to eat chicken feet because she wanted them to have the best parts of the chicken? Imagine if her children were not so stupid and lied to her that they loved chicken feet instead? Or what if their mother truly loved chicken feet? We lie viciously to the people we love. Ironic, isn't it?

2 comments:

  1. The last paragraph, from "Funny how we constantly need..." - breather - "...we lie viciously to the people we love."

    This got to me. It really did. Especially "I would rather be imperfect and well loved than damn near perfect and adored but not loved at all."

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  2. Thanks, Jo. I'm honored that my words touched you.

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