Contemplating obsessively

samedi, le 12 septembre 2009

~Charles Baudelaire

Thou, o my grief, be wise and tranquil still,
The eve is thine which even now drops down,
To carry peace or care to human will,
And in a misty veil enfolds the town.

It’s Saturday and that usually means rugby day. Today being no exception. I absent mindedly watch a game in which we win the trophy in a Southern Hemisphere competition.

As much as I enjoy watching sport, I haven’t really been following the competition. Rugby is just too closely associated with L’homme in my mind for me to bear this season. But this was an important game, after all, and I felt obligated to see it being played.

Watching L’homme watch a rugby game, was watching the L’homme personalities I desperately needed to see for real after the final whistle blew. L’homme is passionate about rugby, he’s involved, he’s present, and he’s dedicated, he’s committed, he will never walk out on a rugby game. Touch, pause, engage. He’s all 15 players on the field. He scrums hard, he hooks the ball, he passes it to the back line, and he runs fast, he kicks high, he scores tries, he converts them, he attacks, he defends. He touches, he pauses, he engages, with every muscle in his body. And then he is the spectator too: he curses, he screams, he delights, he despairs.

Earlier this week, I spoke to my dear friend, The Sorted One. I told him L’homme had walked out on me. He told me he knew. I asked him why he hadn’t mentioned it in any of our many conversations over the past few months. He said he knew I would discuss it when I was ready. I appreciated that.

I often turn to The Sorted One for advice. Before L’homme came along, I was intrigued by The Sorted One’s mind. He seemed to have many answers because he had contemplated many questions. And he is kind and soft and gentle.

This week he told me he had often wondered how L’homme managed to sustain my passion. And he had the simple answer: through intermittent and wonderful reward.

I think about this. On a level he is right. When I experience L’hommes soft sides, I feel content, I feel strong and I feel grounded. When I experience L’hommes spiky sides, I feel insecure, ungrounded and not good enough.

L’homme is not very generous with his soft sides. He hides them deep and far and seldom lets them out. But I know they are there. In thirteen years I have seen them from time to time. And I believe in them. And the more he raises his spiky sides, the more I fight for his soft sides.

The deeper L’homme withdrew into this cave, the more desperate my search became for his soft sides. And when L’homme was certain that he had hidden his soft sides in the deepest, darkest corner of his cave, he bolted when I left the door of his cave to go and walk The Princess and left for good.

A statue I bought of a monk gazing upwards and I wonder what he contemplates and I wonder if he finds any answers and I wonder if he finds lightness and I wonder if he will tell me if he does.

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