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What once felt joyous and new morphed into pain, loneliness, suffering, fear, disappointment, sadness. No need for morbidity here, but sidestepping truth becomes a step toward acquiescence and surrender. Finding joy most often entails the worst action we may take. Joy never, ever owns roots without. The smile always, always emanates from within.

What mystic reference oozes out of the previous paragraph?

Life.

My love of life never wavers at its core. At times, all the surrounding camouflage wilts away. Other times all the pseudo-life decorations evaporate in a nanosecond as from ground zero at a nuclear blast.

Whether slow death or vaporization, my adoration of breathe and thought and love and beauty and many other wonderful aspects of living remains the foundational rock of my existence. In my pain, sorrow, suicidal thoughts and dejection, I remain true to my core.

I love life.

The pain of loneliness rose its devastating head these past couple years. A companion, a confidante, a compatriot, may, in the end, be nothing more than window dressings, but they’re quite real and their absence quite a wound on my soul at this time.

Yes, I know. I’ve heard it most of my life, and I’ve known it a little less than that amount of time – that love and happiness comes from within. I’m more secure within myself than ever before in my life. I know more of who I am and what makes me tick. I’ve come to love myself more than ever, which I realize is not saying a lot, but I do love me.

Yet, part of who I am involves relationship. Touch. Interaction. I do not believe as a species we are meant to live alone. There is a compelling, deep-rooted desire for companionship and the other social interactions listed above. I yearn for that connection. I nearly would state I am not complete without that connection.

I hear the objective roar from those who claim we should be enough simply within ourselves. We do not need someone else to “complete” us. I beg to differ. If you grant me the above statement that we are not “meant to live alone,” then part of who I am is incomplete without the love of another which I desire.

Here, we may get into splitting hairs. My children love me. My mother over-adores me. My sisters love me. My father loved me while he was here, albeit in most un-observable ways.

I’m speaking of the need for the love of another. I possess a deep, deep ability to love. I do not desire to pour this love over many. Just one. As such, I desire the same in return.

There’s the rub. There’s the issue. Right? Most people long for this. I’m no more unique in this than all the homogenized crap fed to the masses by governments, corporations and religions. This is a near universal longing. Yet, when you’re down and out emotionally with the absence of love one of the main players on the emotional field, the pain feels isolated to just you, your heart, and the black-hole frigidity of life.

I know I’m not alone. I know she’s out there. Somewhere.

Age wearies us, doesn’t it? Apathy creeps in like a skulking phantom. Why a phantom would require the act of skulking is a mystery, but apathy does not suddenly bloom out of nowhere. Apathy grows roots deep, breaks the ground, and eventually blossoms into darkness. Foul black and gray petals of darkness. Kudzu of the heart. The battle against apathy robs strength and stamina and raises questions of surrender.

As stated, I love life.

When I become backed into emotional corners, my go-to salvation springs from that love. This entire post has blossomed from a thought which floated through my mind and heart this morning. My little boat is my love of life.

My Little Boat

My little boat is unsinkable.
My little boat traverses the seas of life in all their raging torrents
My little boat saves me from myself.
My little boat allows me to heal from the wounds of others.
My little boat delivers me to island paradises every now and again.
My little boat takes the pure evil of this world and floats on its acid hate
My little boat feels everything.
My little boat weeps in its solitude.
My little boat should be loved.
My little boat will carry me to death’s door.
My little boat will hopefully carry me beyond.

All that is good and real and true in this life manifests itself as the sole cargo aboard my little boat…

As always, I write off the cuff on this site. I will do a quick once-over attempting to find typos, so please be forgiving should you find some. I’m always welcome to your discovery of said typos and will correct them if alerted. 🙂