Love is just a Word

So they say…

Love is not just a word.

It comes in many shapes, forms and sizes.

 

Love is not about being with someone.

It can also be about not being with someone.

As they say, love yourself.

 

Love is blind.

For some, but not for all.

If love were blind then I’d be staring at the wall.

 

Love is never having to say you’re sorry.

That was the famous line of the movie, Love Story.

For me, Love is saying you’re sorry.

 

Love thy neighbor.

It depends on what kind of neighbors one has.

Even if you didn’t love them, doesn’t mean you hate them.

 

All you need is Love.

Famous line in a song!

Feel good indeed when singing along.

 

Not everyone can sing in tune.

Regardless, even the most off-beat individuals find love.

Love is in the air.

 

Yes!  Every waking moment breathe in and breathe out.

 

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In HIS Image and Likeness

My father was a very good provider while we were growing up.

He made sure there was more than enough to meet everyone’s material needs.

Up until college, we were all educated in the best schools.

In marriage, he provided each and everyone of us with a home to live in.

I do not recall any of my material needs ever compromised due of his lack of providing.

 

My father is now 90 and to this day I live a very comfortable life because of him.

I am eternally grateful.

This is the image and likeness of goodness and generosity I grew up with.

It took me a while to understand my mother’s angst.

I often wondered where her unhappiness stemmed from.

 

My father was a hard worker and a dedicated provider.

As a child I understood that was all it took to be a good man.

I could not see my mother’s loneliness.

She craved for nurturing and conversation.

She wanted so desperately to have rapport with someone.

 

My mother was desperately lonely.

She took very good care of us and the home but she was all alone in her marriage.

I, unfortunately did not fare well in my own marriage.

I guess I didn’t have the right role models to look up to.

No regrets, no blame, just stating a fact of realization.

 

I have come to realize that HE too is the likeness and image of my father.

HE came into my life with a grand and generous plan.

A material plan that consisted of a home and all the comforts money could buy.

Naturally, I thought I had won the lottery and love was on my side.

Until the cracks began to show.

 

The initial rapport turned into silence.

One day out of the blue, it just became less and less.

HIS presence faded so quickly, the only thing lacking was an obituary.

One moment HE saved my day and the next HE was absent.  

Not gone, just not available.

 

Still I loved HIM like I love my father.

I was in awe with HIS generosity of wealth because growing up it was my security.

HE no doubt, would have provided the best for my girls too.

But I think in the end, I too would have become a spitting image and likeness of my mother.

Lonely and alone in a home filled with material possessions.

 

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The Absence

A chilly wind blows, something from the north imbued with an Arctic edge, refreshing today, complementing my mood and the shifting, uncertain white and gray sky. My mood is swelling to happy heights, despite Tucker peeing on the sofa this morning.

 

Oh, that Tucker. We found that our black and white enigma stray adoptee is not neutered, which fills in some background about his behavior. Yes, that’s on the list, take him in and get him done, part of the ritual of assimilating him, along with shots. He’s much healthier now. That was our first concern. Second was finding his people. Failing that, he and we belong to one another now.

My high spirits today owe to others’ misfortunates, in an indirect manner. I read of others’ difficulties and that provided the perspective to draw back and see my mountains as ant hills. I thought as I walked and wrote in my head, absences are very important.

I often write in my head about things besides my fiction as I walk. I usually then transcribe them later in the day. Sometimes I post them on the Net. Looking at all that I write versus what I post, I post about forty percent of what I write. Writing is a continuous exploration. It never ends. It’s an extension of my thinking, a tool to help clarify my thinking. The territories explored include everything. Everything needs explored. Think of your neighborhood and how well you know it. But do you know its full history? Probably not. You’re probably familiar with a slice, maybe a big slice, but still a slice. There’s exploring to be done.

I explored absences today. Absences cause magnification. In the absence of true adversity and loss, small losses are magnified to be larger. Lacking large achievements, small achievements, like a new high score on a computer game, becomes magnified to be more magnificent and worthwhile, even as we remind ourselves that it’s just a damn computer game. Part of my exploration goes back to an Atlantic article about robotization (which probably isn’t a word, but I’m using it) and artificial intelligence, and the influences on human society if or when they come. As the average work week shrinks from 70 hours to 37 hours, people have more time to do other things. Mostly what they do, according to studies, is binge on Netflix, and play games. We’re not sitting around, reading the classics and discussing Plato, as some futurists had once envisioned.

That’s how absences work. The article, and the PEW study that prompted it, both noted that we, as a society – I’m talking America here, to be clear – aren’t prepared for an automated society. A coherent plan is absent, since most of our planning is actually reactive, to solve past problems, rather than looking forward, to take advantage of all the possibilities and solve problems and create a better future. Education, economics, and politics are all behind the curve here. Not surprising; American’s political elite seem to be lethargic about addressing the will of the people and looking forward for solutions – see this week’s Congress and its actions, against what polls show Americans want – and more about changing back to what once worked, or making it more profitable to be a corporation or the rich one percent. Those are the safe paths. Most people prefer following the safe paths. Politicians are not different, they’re just more egotistical sociopaths. Like CEOs.

Do you know that one Republican recently declared that corporations are the true populists?

What will we do, Mark Andreeson asked via Tweets, if everything is provided to us, that automation and robots do everything for us, freeing us to do…nothing and anything? Well, most of us have unfortunately hitched our sense of self-worth and actualization to our accomplishments. Our society encourages it in America: “What will you be, when you grow up, Suzy?” “How will you make your living, Bobby?” Our accomplishments are mostly linked to employment, popularity, wealth, and other status symbols that we take to mean success – titles, trophies, cars, clothing, houses, Likes, Friends, Shares.

I’ve been asking myself that, as I face retirement this year at age 59, what will I do in the absence of work? Financially, I pretty prepared. Emotionally, I have some grasp but my wife and I are differing about what ‘we’ should do after ‘my’ retirement. I wrote about that in ‘When I Grow Up.’ I don’t know if I posted it. I don’t think I did.

As I read the original study behind AI and automation, I thought, this sounds like the Star Trek franchise and its society. Others agreed down in the comments. It’s the transition from the current society to that Star Trek vision that many addressed. Nuclear war and widespread suffering took place before someone said, “Enough. We got to get off this planet. Living here is killing us.” Is that what it will take to force change upon us?

I once read that Cormac McCarthy believes the only thing worth writing about is death. I enjoy his writing, dark as it is. He’s masterful about pondering death and the way it’s delivered and endured, and the changes brought on at a personal level when death is experienced.

Without consciously thinking about it, all my fiction writing is about the nature of reality, perceptions of what is going on, and how we act as though we understand everything. I like playing mind games by hypothesizing what’s really going on, and I like using multiple POVs to magnify the absence of understanding. The novel I’m now finishing is about how the family members made assumptions and acted upon them, how their parents’ secrets affected their plans and attitudes, and their efforts to change. There’s a lot of lying involved, to themselves and one another, to protect themselves, ideals, and others. “Fix Everything” is the working title but I’ve been thinking about re-titling it as “All At Once”, in honor of the quantum physics and cosmological theories that are the novel’s foundations. Meanwhile, I’ve begun writing another novel, in which Mother Nature uses movies to expand reality. Something has gone wrong in both novels, of course; something always goes wrong. That’s the fascinating aspect to explore for me, how things go wrong, the impact, and how people adjust. In the first novel, Hywell and his brothers and sisters wrestle with disappointment and isolation despite their wealth; in the second novel, Cassidy, Myrtle and Chronos the Third are working on the problem, and starting that good old race against time before reality ends for humanity – and Mother Nature.

It’s a bizarre world, a bizarre existence that I contemplate. I wonder what the truth is. In the absence of certainty, I create fiction.

 

Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

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