Saturday, December 7, 2013

a blog not about when the lid flies off the blender

Was thinking about faith today, specifically my faith that I will fall in love again. It's the sweetest hope; a faith in the eternal is more profound, but to believe you'll love again is most like chocolate or really good French butter, a faith you want to savor.

At some point after a break-up we decide to relieve ourselves from our crowns of love. There's a certain stepping down from the throne: you are no longer her king, she no longer your queen. The crown of love becomes a crown of thorns that must be carefully untangled from the flesh. It's purpose was to remind you--to dig into your skin so you never for a moment forget--that nothing is more dangerous than love. Particularly for a man, maybe, the joy and covenant of love put survival at risk. We know we can get by on our own. We are nothing if not mammals. But to commit to protecting a clan, to willingly allow a co-pilot near the steering apparatus...


Faith is a lie without doubt. We are too intelligent of beasts to have anything but a rigorous faith. Yet, nothing is fully knowable, we know. Nothing we believe will ever be fully true or understood in all its glorious nuance. We're smart, but we ain't that smart. We know that there must be some lie within our faith. Still, living the lie of hope is the only option.