For no reason other than a comparison to my usually solitary musings to a generally indifferent population I find myself caught up in a maelstrom of social concerns. The first being an ongoing philosophical discussion with a friend that it seems has reached an impasse I am loath to let stand, thus the request of readers to register an opinion of the Marcus Arelius' Quotation two posts back. The second is Pisces Iscariot's pricise encapsulation of a giant portion of what my rants are directed at.
The third is Jeffscape's entry into the Tenth Daughter of Memory writing exercise both for its beauty and for a tangent too large for his comment box. It began there with …
I've always questioned red for love too. It's opposite is green, the ultimate feeling of being a ground for healthy growth, the realization of the possibilities of love. The red is the anger at finding oneself needing, thus expecting others to supply the water for the seed.
Love and happiness are the same thing to me. Happiness is as much the essence of our being as curiosity, arising from the core within each that connects all life despite our definitions. Love is a drawing the attention of our happiness to another that too shows the happiness of its own existence and therby expands ours. The dispair of the world, from broken hearts to wars, is essentially the chagrin at realizing how bereft of happiness we often feel upon discovery of how much we depend on our view of the world to supply and control it, like a painter expecting the canvas to put the right colors on the brush in just the right places and getting angry because it doesn't.
Pisces' piece exemplified civilization suddenly bereft of the props of the myth civilization weaves being thrown back to their atrophied personal responsibilities, just as heartbreak does every day to individuals. Life owes us nothing after giving us the happiness of existence, not even food. We have to love being alive to seek that which will sustain it. We breath involuntarily, but we have to do food. The rest of our doing is either the outpouring of our happiness or the searching for where we lost touch with it along the way.
"Man is riding a camel in search of a camel." - Nomad proverb?
Addendum: The previous post, "There Comes a Time …" has been deleted upon Lilwave's convincing me it was a "dumb post". She also made me pretty sure it was dumb of me to try to appeal to her in any manner. I apologize for washing dirty family laundry in the small public who might have gotten splashed. I'm sure you weren't as offended as Lilwave claims to be. Ah, well, I live and sometimes learn, apparently nothing on that little venture. I can't imagine anyone to pray to so, I guess I'll have to wait for things to change, as they always do.