Love, Choice Illusion and the ballast

A while ago a friend and I were having dinner at a health type eatery that had dishes that were very wide and shallow so when the pasta was brought out it looked like I would have three days worth of meals but was actually only one noodle deep; going out to eat after going out to eat happens every so often but we should be eating less as a species anyway;

As we chewed very slowly we talked about love and she claimed that one could choose who they loved and said no;  I guess they’re both right.  In my experience though, I can say I have loved only two women in my love and by love, I mean something within the body and beyond it; I guess it beckons what is Love to someone and that’s when grappling with angels has purpose;  I’ve thought of that discussion every so often because I am a romantic and I also believe to have control of who you choose to love and who you do not love negates the other person in the equation and assumes a sense of control over everything, which to me is the opposite of Love; love puts everything in tatters that’s unreal and like two hydrogens and an oxygen coming together to form water, I don’t think hydrogen can choose to form water with another element. Maybe it can; when someone poses a point of view I hadn’t considered I like to wrestle with it a bit see if I missed something.  The two women I have loved I feel I have no choice how I feel about it; I don’t want to have a choice; it’s how we handle it where the choices live, the choices with the meat of ethics and growth.  I feel lucky to have encountered twice other souls that have illuminated parts of me that I may not have found or if I did, in a much less sexy way, sitting up in a mountain chanting alone.  I’d rather get there with a little nudity beside me.  Maybe I chose to meet these two entities before I was born. That’s another story.  I’m not a frivolous person so perhaps I take it all too seriously and should answer questions on Nerve’s dating site about whether TV is considered a date; these seem like questions for twentysomethings.  I’m two neighborhoods over from that and we don’t hand out copies of The Game at committee meetings unless I missed those.  I guess at the base of it is this gnawing fear that my whole life could end up crushed inside a box of Mac and Cheese, preserved but unreal.  I’m going to stick with my answer I gave my friend; if I could control what I felt it would be like forcing my blood to spontaneously flow in the opposite direction or bottling up a hurricane between my finger and thumb. Choiceless choice, like when mystics have profound experiences in the presence of a great spirit or entity of renown.

We’ll see next go around.

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