A line cast, a hope followedSunday, February 27, 2005
I beg him to explain how he can take what his mind knows, and use it to govern what his heart should do. It seems like the two are connected for him - a steering column guiding the wheels. But maybe I should have asked why my heart never makes conscious choices of its own.
I lose myself when my heart opens to you. You take my place inside myself. Maybe I’d rather be your experience than mine. Even for a moment. I'd accuse you of kidnapping me, but I voluntarily turn myself over.
“It isn’t a question of how much you think you have to lose” he says. “It’s whether your heart believes it can heal from a loss.”
My head clearly sees the loss and the coming wreck of emotion to follow. My heart refuses to worry about the loss. Refuses to use rationality or acknowledge practical limitations. My heart lacks the discipline of the mind.
I am caught in a tractor beam and even as I flail around looking for shields to put up, I have to admit my heart prefers something, anything, to nothing. Indeed this is a choice, but not the obvious one.
So I draw arbritrary boundaries and say "not this, not that." We both know it is my job to protect myself. Possibly I am incapable of anything but making you blameless. I don't know that I can protect my heart from what it seems to do unbidden.
Is love ever a choice?
I lose myself when my heart opens to you. You take my place inside myself. Maybe I’d rather be your experience than mine. Even for a moment. I'd accuse you of kidnapping me, but I voluntarily turn myself over.
“It isn’t a question of how much you think you have to lose” he says. “It’s whether your heart believes it can heal from a loss.”
My head clearly sees the loss and the coming wreck of emotion to follow. My heart refuses to worry about the loss. Refuses to use rationality or acknowledge practical limitations. My heart lacks the discipline of the mind.
I am caught in a tractor beam and even as I flail around looking for shields to put up, I have to admit my heart prefers something, anything, to nothing. Indeed this is a choice, but not the obvious one.
So I draw arbritrary boundaries and say "not this, not that." We both know it is my job to protect myself. Possibly I am incapable of anything but making you blameless. I don't know that I can protect my heart from what it seems to do unbidden.
Is love ever a choice?
