When I’m writing, my head is often sparring with my heart; and what I try to do is allow beauty and creative truths to win these words over. I try to write with a sense of imagery and rhythm, but find that the beauty I’m often after in my writings are not always festive declarations 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.
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 abstract truth and contradiction that eludes my humble words and lines 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). That is the beauty and truth of love; it rises and falls, and is the greatest rhythm I’ve ever known, and I suppose I will look for it with my words (and heart) forever.
Below is a passage 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