“The difference between a good life and a bad life is how well you walk through the fire.”
– soul brother No. 1 Carl Jung
I recently discovered some interesting insights about love in two unlikely places:
Hitchens’s book is the writer’s account of battling terminal cancer. In the afterword, his wife Carol Blue writes this passage about a secret she and her husband shared prior to a speaking engagement:
By the time I saw [Christopher] standing at the stage entrance of the 92nd Street Y that evening, he and I — and we alone — knew he might have cancer. We embraced in a shadow that only we saw and chose to defy. We were euphoric. He lifted me up and laughed.
We went into the theater, where he conquered yet another audience. We managed to get through a jubilant dinner in his honor and set out on a stroll back to our hotel through the perfect Manhattan night, walking more than fifty blocks. Everything was as it should be, except that it wasn’t. We were living in two worlds. The old one, which never seemed more beautiful, had not yet vanished; and the new one, about which we knew little except to fear it, had not yet arrived.
That passage is interesting because it covers two topics that are obsessive points of interest for me lately: Fear and Love. I suppose one could argue that fear and love are inextricably linked. I sometimes think they are.
In Murray’s book, the author gives marriage advice that seems intuitive, although many of us find ourselves mired in situations where such intuitiveness is out-of-reach. He writes:
…I believe that two people who love each other should be careful to avoid saying anything that will inflict hurt. Occasionally there will be an overwhelmingly compelling reason why the hurtful thing must be said. But if your prospective spouse says hurtful things heedlessly, or seems to take any pleasure whatsoever in causing hurt, break it off.
Some other, random and stray thoughts about love:
…being an 18-karat manic-depressive and having lived a life of violent emotional contradictions, I have an overacute capacity for sadness as well as elation.
Pretty much, yeah. Although I’m not an 18-karat manic-depressive.
Remember this Living Colour song?
And then there’s Sailor and Lula, one of my favorite couples from the Silver Screen. Witness one of the most amazingly absurd scenes in cinema history:
Clearly, it takes getting pummeled by a gang of street toughs to trigger the realization* that love conquers all.