My Lesson - no longer a romantic

Ego is the key to my passion.

The source of the desire to find ones other half - that partner who is as special as the moon is to the sun - is the wish to find the proof of ones own uniqueness.

That there are two sexes, that sexual relations is a partnership is an extraordinary coincidence.

But we know that we are just one in the crowd and that challenges our belief in uniqueness, yet we ignore that lesson, continue to think that our life is special amongst all the lives and we project this into the crowd to find that Other who is as special as we are. Our soul mate, our unique partner of destiny.

So why do we hold so tight to this belief in uniqueness - that belief that my beloved is unique that I am unique? Is it not because we dread the empty space that opens up in our life when we see that really we are just as accident of creation? What does my life mean, why are I here, what am I to do with this existence, how can i fill these days which i have been given but which seem completely arbitrary? That our death really means nothing and we wish to have people who will miss us and make that death important.

It seems such a waste to have no reason or meaning to it all. It makes me think that I am worthless, unvalued, irrelevant and so i run into the belief that I am something and seek those who will mutually support that dream.

And if she is beautiful, if she is really beautiful, if she can satisfy my deepest sexual desires, then my efforts to befriend her to make her special seem sugar coated, that I am being rewarded in every direction. I have a love to prove my worth, and a lover to prove my worth and I am satisfied within the walls of that illusion.

So i took a slightly different approach. I didn't want the sexual satisfaction - that was too obvious and cheap. I wanted to prove in a most profound way that I was special that my love was not a selfish love but a respect for someone who was truely different and valuable. And in idolising her and pushing her onto a pedistal I could then bask in the glory of being special myself. The ultimate proof that my existence was unique, real and special. But then I fell upon the petard of my repressed sexual desire, the lie that I did not fancy her and wanted her more than her existence came back to haunt me, and then i was robbed of her physical existence all together.

So while the arts are a true expression of the heart, too often they are filled with the existential dread of people seeking meaning and immortality through public expression, subjects and events to fill the void, too often a display case for the urgent passion to be unique and special and to prove that to the world. The craving to find solid ground upon which to build ones life. I think worst of the ballet Onegin.

So now to find that space between the sun and moon where they belong as partners in a cosmos of limitless diversity and beauty and to which neither has their own unique claim.