Friday, June 24, 2005
I would like to offer an explanation for the length of time that has transpired since my last post. At times in life, unexpected good things come along. When I moved into my Little Rock abode, I was pleasantly supprised to find an unsecured wireless network already in place. Through this network, I was afforded a free gateway to the internet. Because of this, I opted not to obtain my own internet service. However, a couple of weeks ago, the wireless network disappeared as spontaneously as it had appeared, and I was left without internet access. When the network disappeared, I ordered internet service through the cable company. I was then allowed to experience the joy of cable company efficiency: I waited and waited, until one of their technicians could spare the time and come to do the 10 minutes of work necessary to activate my cable. Isn't it odd how adept they are at delivering and collecting bills while being laboriously slow at getting cable connected and/or fixed? The peculiar juxtaposition seems to be as much a part the cable company as the miles of coax line spiderwebbing across the coverage area. I would like to note that I am not necessarily faulting the technicians; they may very well work hard for the entire workday. If this is the case, then the cable company itself needs to hire more technicians to carry the workload. So, back from my side rant, the technician finally worked me into his busy schedule a day ago. And now, I have a (hopefully) reliable internet connection through which I may continue my postings.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Absence
What is it about physical presence that inherently dissipates so many trivial problems?
In many romantic relationships, there is a period in which the two partners are physically distant from one another, due to the demands of disparate occupations or hobbies. In my admittedly limited experience, when these times have lasted beyond a couple of days, the physical distance has often facilitated an emotional distance. These fissures often arise from tiny rimae that would normally go unnoticed: little things that would normally be kosher, like the way a phrase is voiced, often touch off a fight over nothing or everything. Does the temporary bodily absence of our beloved wither and dry our emotions to kindling? Why? When separated from my friends and family, they do not grow raw towards me, awaiting only the slightest provocation to lash out. Instead, they seem to enjoy my telephone conversations, and my cute emails. Granted, I do not engage in the same level of physical connection with them as I do with my womens; but I am able to appreciate my interaction with them on a fairly constant basis. Does this indicate something about those with whom I choose to share my body? Could this stem from a lack of real friendship with my intimate consorts? Are my relationships so wholly dependent on the physical realm to sustain them that, without it, they dry up within a couple of weeks? I had thought my connections deeper than that, but perhaps I had been illuding myself into believing my love affair more than it was. But each time I find myself really hoping that this time it really will be that something more. And each time, thus far, I've had fight after meaningless/pointless fight over so many little nothings - fights that would not have occurred were we close enough to embrace.
And each time, much to my chagrin, the resulting emotional rift has, thus far, always outlasted the physical separation; once our bodies are once again entwined, our fights still haunt my mind, preventing me from allowing her as close to my heart as she previously was, all the while wishing I could allow the past to slip through the fingers of my mind like so much sand.
Perhaps these problems are already there, and simply masked by the infatuation accompanying the physical intimacy. The separation thus reveals and possibly exacerbates these petty annoyances, ballooning them into real "issues". The "issues" then go on to cause real hurts (emotional injuries) which are not healed simply by physical contact. Perhaps my partner and I can see the futility of this bickering and work to avoid it. Perhaps we can also work to heal the scratches we've already given one another...
In many romantic relationships, there is a period in which the two partners are physically distant from one another, due to the demands of disparate occupations or hobbies. In my admittedly limited experience, when these times have lasted beyond a couple of days, the physical distance has often facilitated an emotional distance. These fissures often arise from tiny rimae that would normally go unnoticed: little things that would normally be kosher, like the way a phrase is voiced, often touch off a fight over nothing or everything. Does the temporary bodily absence of our beloved wither and dry our emotions to kindling? Why? When separated from my friends and family, they do not grow raw towards me, awaiting only the slightest provocation to lash out. Instead, they seem to enjoy my telephone conversations, and my cute emails. Granted, I do not engage in the same level of physical connection with them as I do with my womens; but I am able to appreciate my interaction with them on a fairly constant basis. Does this indicate something about those with whom I choose to share my body? Could this stem from a lack of real friendship with my intimate consorts? Are my relationships so wholly dependent on the physical realm to sustain them that, without it, they dry up within a couple of weeks? I had thought my connections deeper than that, but perhaps I had been illuding myself into believing my love affair more than it was. But each time I find myself really hoping that this time it really will be that something more. And each time, thus far, I've had fight after meaningless/pointless fight over so many little nothings - fights that would not have occurred were we close enough to embrace.
And each time, much to my chagrin, the resulting emotional rift has, thus far, always outlasted the physical separation; once our bodies are once again entwined, our fights still haunt my mind, preventing me from allowing her as close to my heart as she previously was, all the while wishing I could allow the past to slip through the fingers of my mind like so much sand.
Perhaps these problems are already there, and simply masked by the infatuation accompanying the physical intimacy. The separation thus reveals and possibly exacerbates these petty annoyances, ballooning them into real "issues". The "issues" then go on to cause real hurts (emotional injuries) which are not healed simply by physical contact. Perhaps my partner and I can see the futility of this bickering and work to avoid it. Perhaps we can also work to heal the scratches we've already given one another...
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Love?
What is love?
As I'm sure most people have at one time or another, I have oft wondered what love actually is. The term get tossed around frequently enough within the context of familial and romantic relationships to easily be a part of one's daily lexicon. The word is generally connected to a strong emotional tie with another person; and, though felt keenly, and recognized immediately and innately, the word forever eludes our abilities to adequately define. There is often some sense of obligation towards those to whom our love is given: of our own volition, we give of ourselves to those we love. The true measure of a love is sometimes demonstrated through what one would give for the loved one's benefit. Also, there is often a sense of sharing the life of loved ones; when they rejoice, we rejoice with them, and when they grieve, we grieve. Within the concept of romantic love, there is often also an element of possession: I love her, therefore I shall engage in sexual congress solely with her. However, this is not a necessary condition for love, only a common consequence of the strong emotional attachment developed through intimacy.
However, the word is all too often used as a means to validate one's own sexual indiscretions: I love her, therefore naught is amiss with the carnal knowledge of her I have gained during the brief tenure of our acquaintance. In some cases, the love even seems to have retro-active effects, forgiving yesterday's improprieties with today's emotional explanations. To further complicate matters, it is often untruthfully uttered with the sole purpose of advancing the progress of the physical element of a romantic relationship.
I personally never want to cheapen the word by using it as a cop-out for bedroom blunders, nor falsely voicing the term in hopes of new or continued intimacy. I also don't want to use the "L" word without having at least some rough concept of what it means to me. For this reason, I have occassionally been given over to pondering about love. After much thought and reading, the best I've come up with is this: to value another's desires/happiness/well-being more than I value my own. If I value the loved one's well-beingabove my own, it will take precendence in determining the course of my actions.
If I truly love another, I will not deceive her about my thoughts or feelings. For in this deception, I am placing my desire to avoid from her any of ill will above her desire to know me better. In loving another, I will trust her. For in denying her my trust, I am allowing my desire that my trust not be betrayed to rule over her desire that I open myself to her and believe her. While I may not be able to instantly lower my defenses and trust her completely, I will try to trust her more each day. In a similar vein, I will allow my loved one the time and space to open herself to me, understanding that trust must develop. In short, if I truly love another, I will be there for her, in whatever capacity I am able. To me, here and now, that is how I will love.
As I'm sure most people have at one time or another, I have oft wondered what love actually is. The term get tossed around frequently enough within the context of familial and romantic relationships to easily be a part of one's daily lexicon. The word is generally connected to a strong emotional tie with another person; and, though felt keenly, and recognized immediately and innately, the word forever eludes our abilities to adequately define. There is often some sense of obligation towards those to whom our love is given: of our own volition, we give of ourselves to those we love. The true measure of a love is sometimes demonstrated through what one would give for the loved one's benefit. Also, there is often a sense of sharing the life of loved ones; when they rejoice, we rejoice with them, and when they grieve, we grieve. Within the concept of romantic love, there is often also an element of possession: I love her, therefore I shall engage in sexual congress solely with her. However, this is not a necessary condition for love, only a common consequence of the strong emotional attachment developed through intimacy.
However, the word is all too often used as a means to validate one's own sexual indiscretions: I love her, therefore naught is amiss with the carnal knowledge of her I have gained during the brief tenure of our acquaintance. In some cases, the love even seems to have retro-active effects, forgiving yesterday's improprieties with today's emotional explanations. To further complicate matters, it is often untruthfully uttered with the sole purpose of advancing the progress of the physical element of a romantic relationship.
I personally never want to cheapen the word by using it as a cop-out for bedroom blunders, nor falsely voicing the term in hopes of new or continued intimacy. I also don't want to use the "L" word without having at least some rough concept of what it means to me. For this reason, I have occassionally been given over to pondering about love. After much thought and reading, the best I've come up with is this: to value another's desires/happiness/well-being more than I value my own. If I value the loved one's well-beingabove my own, it will take precendence in determining the course of my actions.
If I truly love another, I will not deceive her about my thoughts or feelings. For in this deception, I am placing my desire to avoid from her any of ill will above her desire to know me better. In loving another, I will trust her. For in denying her my trust, I am allowing my desire that my trust not be betrayed to rule over her desire that I open myself to her and believe her. While I may not be able to instantly lower my defenses and trust her completely, I will try to trust her more each day. In a similar vein, I will allow my loved one the time and space to open herself to me, understanding that trust must develop. In short, if I truly love another, I will be there for her, in whatever capacity I am able. To me, here and now, that is how I will love.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
A beginning
As I sit here in my Little Rock apartment, alone save for my cat, I can't help but think of the coming years. The summer will hold montage of mini-adventures interspersed with the seasonal occupation that I have chosen. However, the focus of my lunchtime musing has been more distant: how am I ever going to be a medical doctor? This has been my life's goal since a hospital visit almost 20 years ago. Medicine has been the only field in which I've worked, or even wanted to work. And yet, thinking years down my life's road, I am struck with the almost overwhelming fear that I will have a person's life in my hands. The decisions I make will determine, in a very direct way, the continuation of another's existence. At this point, that frightens me more than anything I've ever experienced. Academically, I know that people die, and that there are numerous injuries and diseases that are beyond the realm of modern medicine to fix. I know that, even as a fully licensed medical doctor, there are going to be circumstances where, after doing everything correctly, I still lose a patient. While these do inspire within me an undeniable disquiet, they do not truly terrify me; that I might, nay will, make a mistake that results in a death horrifies me. To believe that I could make it for any substantial length of time without even a single error is not reasonable. Eventually, one of these mistakes will most likely prove to be fatal. At this point, I do not know how I will face a family after failing their loved one. Perhaps by that point I will be a different person, one capable of rapid decision-making, and remorse-free living. But I doubt it. Most likely, I will deal with that particular situation with the knowledge that I did the best I could, and God is in control. Besides, I don't think I want to be a doctor like that; I want to give patients all the aid and comfort that is within my power.
