Monday, February 21, 2011

Threading A Needle (of love?).

Countless bits of stimuli splat against the windshield.  Some make it through recognizably, albeit in fragments of their former selves,, and others, the majority, find themselves an organic cement of rainbow hues, only to be washed away in the diluted blue of winter skies and summer berries, flatly pissed out onto the side of a moving vehicle.  At night, when the road slowly cools from the long baking process of the day, the pieces of filth will stand up, examine themselves, and attempt some reassembly before the day breaks.  Their chance of finding recognition in the driver's eyes now shot, they will try to impress upon whomever available the basic fact that they are valuable and worthy, that they are valid in their existence, however slight, and however brief.  That they might find some audience, they will have succeeded and we need not talk more of them here.  If not, perhaps theirs is a tale to tell of isolated survival with the hopes of uncovering true understanding at a later point.

It is always miserable to think that someone understands you only to find out later that they do not.  Such misery might be assuaged by understanding that you don't communicate so well to start with, like my dense story above may illustrate.  When we predicate our existence on communication, though, we might consider that when our communication is inefficient, we should change it.  But our inefficiency cries out for something very special: the chance to be understood by a select group, and not everybody.  We don't like simple messages.  We want to be wanted by the people who are most wanted.  We especially want the people who are most wanted to understand us, or feel, perhaps, that it requires someone very special to understand us.  We develop standards, especially for intimate partners, for the limited purpose of finding an understanding companion, someone who can empathize from experience.  The odd footnote here is that we're all simultaneously on a very similar mission to find this deeply subjective profound and transformational understanding, so that we can finally just give in to another person and stop presenting ourselves as if we're wanted all the time.


Anonymous said...

I can't really articulate how powerful this last paragraph is. It has opened my eyes to the point that I can now finally get why. For so long I wondered if I was a woman who just attracted some troubled men. I thought maybe I was some co-dependent queen or something. That I had an invisible gps attachment on my head that led some very sweet, sensitive, troubled, pain-filled men to me. And now I finally get it. Thank you.

hmm said...

That's nice, thank you.