people write so much about falling in love and/or being heartbroken but not so much about falling out of love?
“There is always something ridiculous about the emotions of people whom one has ceased to love. Sibyl Vane seemed to him to be absurdly melodramatic. Her tears and sobs annoyed him.” — Oscar Wilde
Growing apart is easy. Entropy is scientifically proven to be the natural proclivity of things, of life. So unless we intentionally invest in time and energy to move towards an organized outcome/goal, most states of affairs fall apart, relationships as well. Relationships especially.
“Sorry I missed your call; I was in a meeting,” she texted after having intentionally screened the call to avoid a phone conversation.
“Sorry, I can’t come out tonight. I am caught up at work,” he lied, as he poured himself a drink.
“Ugh. I’m so sorry but can we reschedule? My niece asked if I could help her with work this weekend,” she said apologetically, making sure that she weaved her niece into the lie so it sounded more believable, and less refutable.
Because growing together requires commitment, intentionality, hard work, whereas growing apart only requires the withdrawal of effort.
Because in Chocolate, Vanilla, Choose, not choosing is also a choice.
“So they went off together. But wherever they go, and whatever happens to them on the way, in that enchanted place on the top of the forest, a little boy and his bear will always be playing.”
“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
Winnie the Pooh
Especially when I am absolutely no good at goodbyes to begin with.
Men are busy, but boys don’t stop growing. Sons want their fathers’ attention until the precise moment when fathers want their sons’.
Us Against You
This quote got me today. Besides children, parents also don’t stop aging. The adage is right: time and ride will wait for no one. All we have is right now.
True love, in the evolutionary sense, means peace of mind.
I used to find myself in similar relationship patterns, with: passionate, exciting, noncommittal partners. For the longest time, I thought that was what love was—electrifying butterfly feelings in my stomach, intense highs, and invariable crashes and lows that came with such unsustainable highs.
Until I read Attachment and understood that:
an activated attachment system is not passionate love.
Mature love is actually grounding and safe. Our partner should be our home, our safe haven. Perhaps what makes this new understanding of attachment really challenging, is that: how do we find someone who excites us and anchors us at the same time? Someone who, not only do we share peaks together (those are easy), but also valleys—especially valleys.
Perhaps ultimately what we are asking ourselves is essentially: is this person a playdate or a partner with whom we can safely unfold this beautifully intricate life that is imbued with both sparkles and heartbreaks?
There are many books that I love but there are only 3 that I keep a physical copy close to me so I can revisit at least a few times every year: The Little Prince, The Alchemist, and Eat, Pray, Love.
To know these 3 books well is to know the guiding compass and the governing principles of my life.
These 3 books have grown up with me since my twenties and despite having read them innumerable times, I continue to learn something about life and about myself from them.
I must have first read The Little Prince when I was in my early twenties. It started off as a book I read to the kids, then it suddenly dawned on me how much childlike spirit I had lost when I caught glimpse of myself in all those absurd characters that the Little Prince had encountered in the story.
‘Grown-ups are very fond of numbers. When you tell them about a new friend, they never ask you the kind of questions that should be asked, such as: “What kind of voice does he have?” “What are his favourite games?” “Does he collect butterflies?”
Instead they ask: “How old is he? How much money does his father earn?”
They really do imagine this is the best way to discover what sort of person he is!’
The Little Prince
Since then, I made a point to frequently revisit the book, particularly in the month of May, to remind myself of the modest, humble, innocent essentials in life.
“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
The first time I read The Alchemist, I didn’t understand most of its analogies. I didn’t understand the pursuit of the personal legend, I didn’t understand the desert, the wind, the oasis, the alchemy, the treasure, the sheep—the magic and the grandeur of life, of the world.
I was so young, so caught up in my own growing up and fear of being left behind that I had missed what was sacrosanct—the journey of life itself.
Because I don’t live in either my past or my future. I’m interested only in the present. If you can concentrate always on the present, you’ll be a happy man. You’ll see that there is life in the desert, that there are stars in the heavens, and that tribesmen fight because they are part of the human race.
Life will be a party for you, a grand festival, because life is the moment we’re living right now.
The Alchemist
Over the years I have slowly gotten better at listening to the “soul of the world”, at living and letting live, at understanding my specklike existence against the immensity of the universe and the absurdity of trying to assert any semblance of control.
Let go, and watch the stars come out—on the outside and on the inside.
Eat, Pray, Love
I resisted reading Eat, Pray, Love for the longest time because I abstinently refused to read “hype” books.
But life has a strange sense of humour and somehow Eat, Pray, Love found me when I most needed it—in a puddle of tears on my bathroom floor, where Elizabeth Gilbert was as well, when she first started writing the book.
Eat, Pray, Love was not like the previous two books from which I uncovered some blind spots and had a metamorphic experience. It did, however, offered great solace and hope while I healed and transformed.
The day is ending. It’s time for something that was beautiful to turn into something else that is beautiful. Now, let go.
I still find myself reaching for it when I need a reminder of how resilient I am, of how strong my love is, of how to hold onto my romantic ideologies about people, about the world, when it hurt all too much to.
YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW STRONG MY LOVE IS!!!!!!!!!
Between all 3 books, I have the wisdom, the courage, and the solace to soldier on while loving fervently and fearlessly.
I couldn’t resist and started reading Tender is the Night. (It has been every bit as beautiful as you had described it to be—thanks, Tony!) As I catch myself sinking into the world of Fitzgerald and my heartbeat slowing to the cadence of his words, I wonder how I have become such a sucker for words? I hate to admit this because it sounds so stupid but if I have a natural ‘type’ (aka my kryptonite), it’d be those whose thoughts are nimble, whose craft is in wordsmithing.
Ms. C. Loves 