Memory and Loss, My Version

I woke up late and tired, as usual. In fact, I woke up on account of rain. Bursts of rolling thunder and the splattering rain hitting the bedroom window panes woke me up. I opened my eyes. The struggling light managed to get through the Venetian blinds. I looked at the watch. I only slept for five hours. Not enough if I want to live long to collect my Social Security and Pension benefits. Last night, a melancholy piece written by a black Marine veteran about the memory and the collapse of his marriage shook me to the core. I knew about memory and loss. I knew about love. I was foolish and green and stupidly idealistic. And I was madly in love with Laura who dumped me for some guy who she thought was better than me. He in turned dumped her for a beautiful woman from Hue, the former imperial city of Vietnam. I met both him and his beautiful wife, (by chance. The earth is really small, believe me.) about five years after Laura brutally left me.

Anyway, I couldn't write as well as the ex-Marine. I couldn't recapture the pain and the hurt and oppressive weight of the memory of good times. But I could feel and empathize what he went through.

Many women have loved me. Many women have had sex with me. Yet, nobody really has been able to shake loose the memory of loss and pain associated with Laura. That's why I have concluded that the idea of romantic love is bullshit and dangerous. Don't you ever open wide your heart, otherwise you will get hurt, otherwise memory of loss and pain will stay with you for a long time. And nothing really can make it fade away, not even time. Time will make it tolerable, but time will not make it disappear.

I am 62 years of age now. I think I finally get wiser and really understand myself and women from all the years of wandering in the wilderness of love and money and power and status. I have finally graduated from the School of Hard Knocks. I have blown three-fourths of my wealth on gaining the experience of understanding the human heart. I am determined to hang on the quarter of that wealth in my old age. After years of flirting with self-destruction and reckless adventures, I now want to live until 100 years of age. I now speak less, eat less, and think and study more. I find life irresistible. I want to fully live, but without the unnecessary risks of my youth. As for Laura, she never left the recesses of my mind. She is there to remind me that love is just a four-letter word, a shortcut for a longer word: bullshit. Who says life is not meaningful without love? I am going to prove that that is a fucking (pun intended) myth. However, sex is something else altogether, but not without dangers and costs to the pocketbook, health, and careers. Look the damages it has brought to the the top echelons at Penn State University after it was revealed a football's defense coordinator sexually abused boys in his "charitable programs" on the school campus. Maybe I have a low sex drive, but I never understand why certain men and women risked everything and hurt themselves and those around them in order to satisfy the sexual urge even if they knew that urge was not of the normal and thus acceptable kind. Why can't they control it or at least find an outlet for it via imagination and sublimation. I have a lot of illogical and irrational dreams and wishes, but so far I have managed to have them under control. I have not killed anybody. And I have not done any acts of sexual impropriety. I am an intensely proud man and I do have a disdain and contempt for most humans. That's why I have refrained from doing anything to invite scorn and contempt upon myself. I have lived within the boundaries of decency and decorum. There is nothing more despicable than to lack self-control and commit sexual acts which are outside the norm. Man is not an animal. He has will-power. He can use his will-power to override his instincts and desires. I pity those who are the slaves of their sex urges. As the heading of today's meditation says, one must go through life with courage and one must find meaning and purpose in one's existence. We are humans, not a pebble or a piece of dry dog shit by the side of the road. We can sing, write poetry, build awesome buildings and monuments, and fight to the death to defend our family and our fatherland. We surely can find ways to control our unwholesome sexual urges or even wild, crazy romantic feelings.

Wissai



Wissai