10 years on ....

Tomorrow at 2pm, the 5th, it is 10 years since I first spoke to my muse. The 1st was 10 years since the evening I stood in Clapham common gazing at the alignment of 9 planets across the sky to the cresent moon (which I read recently was followed by another on 3-5th May 2000 and the last 9 planet aligment for 600+ years) and the 2nd was 10 years since I first saw the golden light of her form float past me in the shop. This week I have had ample time to relive and remember what has become a defining moment in my life. There is no doubt we were in profound love, and no doubt that I simply let it slip. I knew in January that she was confused and frustrated with me, she never let it show but I knew, and could feel it slipping. We had different ways of dealing with it, she simply continued in her relationship and the many that followed I came to study this event in minute detail to understand.

What is true love? I believed at the time that if we were destined to be together then no word need ever be uttered between us on the subject. It would just happen. The same way the the greater world had brought us together, and set our stories so perfectly that we were in love. That is something we can never manufacture. So why do we need to manufacture the rest? Not if it true love I argued, and argue still.

So no it cannot have been true love because we never were together. On her side I did not provide the physical romance that she longed for, and on my side I knew I had nothing material to offer her. I can write a million letters, and give her a cosmos of gifts, but as she said to me many times, an imagination is no substitue for reality... and she I was always reminded was a realist.

So I blew it, but in that it was never meant to be. I still love her that is the problem, and I knew she appreciated the friendship I cannot believe she kept that painted egg so dear to her. Why would anyone do that? It was just a painted egg from a frustrating friend. Maybe I don't appreciate the love of friendship?

Anyway! Love is flawed. Indeed the world is flawed I can safely say. Love is something that must be built and nurtured like a plant. The seeds may fall but without care and attention it will die. And, in that I am dissappointed in love. What good is that which we have made with our own hands? If i can make something, then at journeys end I have what i started with... except the potential has become the real. Maybe it can be argued that without making something we'll never know what potenial we had, but is knowledge all this is about?

This morning I think otherwise. What is this path of destruction and pain that i am on? I was inspired by Kierkegaard at college and how inexplicably he turned scorned his fiancee and lived the rest of his life anguishing about that choice. The was something perculiar and heroic about chosing against ones wishes. For, those who chose according to their wishes i have always suspected become slaves to those wishes.

The very fact that we can enter futures where what we want either does or does not happen shows us that the world is greater than our desires. It is true that the potential is always there to not have even the greatest desire of one life. I have been fascinated I suppose by the prospect of losing what I hold most dear. Indeed I have done just that. It has happened. It is real and I despite enormous suffering am still here. The world keeps turning. Existence is greater than desire. Not that desire is not important... what world is there without desire. But that "my" desire is but one of countless desires in this world and while everything to me, it just a small part of an unlimited universe.

I always knew that she would enlighten me. Maybe I got it wrong that the enlightenment would come through bearing the loss, than the luxury of gain. Time will tell.