I have a “reading” coming up in a few weeks so I am head (and heart) first into preparing and polishing up final revisions. And as I’m reviewing my work for the “reading” I’ve noticed many of my most recent works have a ton in common…they are all about love. I just can’t stop thinking about it. So as I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m fascinated with love, what I’ve also realized is that the love I often capture, then write about, is not always wrapped in a beautiful bow (that’s the thrilling or maybe challenging part). When I’m writing, my head is often in battle with my heart, and what I try to do is allow beauty and creative truths to win these words over.
I’ve come to know that all (or most) love is not happily ever after all the time—it might be ever after, but a lot can happen between the happily (those first flutters of a love swelling belly) and ever after (whenever that might be). And while I try to write with a keen sense of image and rhythm, I also find that the beauty I’m often after in my writings are not always festive declarations of love searing from the seams of our hearts in bliss. I write about love that is active and ever working…working hard in and through unpredictable life, the kind of love that has its moments of bliss but isn’t covered in sunshine and rainbows at every turn.
I am curious about love in all its slippery wisdom, it’s capability to transform someone’s life and its ability to attempt ruin. Love is this wonderfully abstract truth and contradiction that eludes my humble words and lyric every time. But I keep chasing after it, kind of like those of us in love who keep loving even when we wonder where that love has gone (some days), or why it changed suddenly (other days), and why it feels just perfect (still other days). But all is not doom and gloom—that too is the beauty and truth of love. As a matter of fact, there is hope in every single blissful or tragic moment in love; that is the irony of it all. Love rises and falls, and is the greatest rhythm I’ve ever known, and I will chase it with my words (and heart) forever, or at least until time tells me otherwise.
Below is a passage I found by British novelist Louis De Bernieres, author of Captain Corelli’s Mandolin:
Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being “in love” which any of us can convince ourselves we are.
Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two.–Louis De Bernieres