3am poem, or not

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Procrastination

This is a quick post about feeling grateful.  It is also a fireplace study-break and more truthfully, an excuse to procrastinate.  The official storyline goes: a mere attempt to freeze the fleeting greatness of gratitude, because the more I think about graduation, the more thankful I am for the Davidson community that I have been fortunate to be a part of.

– For the wonderful housemates that woke me up on the Valentine morning with a heart-shaped breakfast, topped with raisins

– For meals shared with Carol Adams!

– For company and conversations with Davidson friends and professors, and for their multi-faceted talents that never fail to amaze me

– For the comforting knowledge that a truly robust and special connection does not die from distance

– For the warm cup of coffee I am drinking right now

– For apple carrot muffins

Alright. Back to work.

Comfort food: a Zen-inspired dinner

Not knowing what you want and not acknowledging your feelings are the most detrimental things you can ever do to your personal happiness. If you combine this emotional self-dishonesty with distrust, impulsivity and a tendency for control, you get a recipe for failure. Due to a twisted fate, I am somehow convinced that the true marker of getting over someone is to be with another person. Practically speaking, a relationship status is the only tangible, visible indicator. Is it not?

And my status for this Valentine says single. That is despite my rushing in and artificially foisting upon a special kind of connection. After all, what does it mean to get over someone? Is it when you stop feeling attraction for the person? How do you get over someone when there was very little to begin with? Or what if you can never remove that chemistry?

Time and distance continue to be the answer. Meanwhile, some zen should help, and maybe some zen-inspired community dinner, consisting of carrot rice, tofu satay and baked apples. It was a truly warm, comforting meal.

Here’s a very suitable Margaret Atwood quote from one of her most known works, The Handmaid’s Tale:

“Falling in love, we said; I fell for him. We were falling women. We believed in it, this downward motion: so lovely, like flying, and yet at the same time so dire, so extreme, so unlikely. God is love, they once said, but we reversed that, and love, like heaven, was always just around the corner. The more difficult it was to love the particular man beside us, the more we believed in Love, abstract and total. We were waiting, always, for the incarnation. That word, made flesh.

And sometimes it happened, for a time. That kind of love comes and goes and is hard to remember afterwards, like pain. You would look at the man one day and you would think, I loved you, and the tense would be past, and you would be filled with a sense of wonder, because it was such an amazing and precarious and dumb thing to have done; and you would know too why your friends had been evasive about it, at the time.

There is a good deal of comfort, now, in remembering this.”

Hard to remove spirituality from love, isn’t it? Thoughts?