Skip to main content

The woman from Idaho: What I think I am learning about friendship


So...team...this one is...a little unfinished. Forgive me for being unfinished, I just feel like it' s a lesson I'm in process on and just don't have the right answers...if I ever will. Enjoy some vague glimpses into some of my thoughts and concerns. Good luck.

So I feel like I need to learn friendship better...with everyone but especially with women. Being all old...ish and single sucks. It makes you all antsy and paranoid at the same time....like any attractive woman who walks into your life may carry both the burden of complete stranger and potential “mother of my children.”

However, as you may assume, this isn't really fair.

It certainly isn't fair to me...It's stupid. It's setting myself up...What kind of mindless fool walks around unable to picture a member of the opposite sex as anything more than a potential mate...besides roughly 50 percent of men between the ages of 13 and 80.

When I do this I totally cheat myself out of relationship...out of anything deeper than eye candy and external beauty....chocolate cake on display in store window... I'm the fat kid sticking his face up against the glass thinking that proximity is consumption.

Secondly...It's even more unfair to her....I used the word consumption just there....and that is what it is...a means to an end...my own ends. Of course...I, like most people, would never say it like that.

I think I will get married some day...despite all evidence to the contrary. I have gone through a lot of crap and even though I've seen some healing I'm still unfinished, I still have questions. This is normal I suppose but I think before I can ever consider marriage I have to believe better things about myself and others.

I wrote a letter to my wife the other night...the one I don't have. I don't usually do this but a middle ages man told me to in a sermon so I did it. I wrote it to this nameless entity...that existed somewhere outside of space and time...or maybe Idaho...maybe she was in Idaho...I don't know...anyway.... I stood talking to myself....I don't do this to often but sometimes I just have lines that pop into my head and out my mouth and I find myself reciting them into the nothing like Hamlet .

I said something like “I could wed you and bed you...” I know it sounds archaic but I think it was fun because it rhymed... I was speaking to the ideal, the person beyond reach of voice who would be there if she came back from Idaho, and for a moment it was pure.

I didn't know it when I spoke but as the line hit the air and ricocheted of the bed, floor and walls and came back to me I heard the lines unsaid behind them...

...The other lines whispered past my ears, they whisked past like smoke trails off a jet. The next line said “There was beauty in the want...”And I knew was true. I wanted it for all the good things.
...It would be for the search of love, for intimacy, for the goodness and joy I read about in all the stories, for the butterflies and sweaty palms of middle school. It was to know that the search could find it's hope and redemption, the alleviation of suffering. I wanted the mesh of emotions we find in our tears at the end of movies. I wanted ALL the good things.

But then...something else...something I didn't expect.

The lines came quicker and thinner now, like a rope fraying out to a weak end, like the guitar chord rung out with one sour note in it. If emotions had poor grammar I knew I misspelled something. What was it?...Then in one foul moment the thought became as potent as opening a grave. The line, although pure and true on top...still reeked of spoil underneath. At it's root, the base, the bottom most thought and motive and heart was still “me.”

The statement wore the cloak of beauty over the rotting corps of selfishness and self-preservation. This person, this fictional being in my bed, had become a symbol of happiness, a finding of joy,...they become the gateway to those things all the kids dream of and the pop stars sing about. The Daisy among thorns.

This is the greatest paradox in existence in my experience. What I mean is “Love” is the greatest desire of men's hearts and yet the only thing that cannot be fully experienced without the loss of self. It can only be experienced by coming a little out of one's self and experiencing the other fully as themselves, faults and cellulite included.

So...what I'm trying to say, I don't know anyone in Idaho, but even if I did is friendship is not simple and it is not a means to an end. I ought not learn it because if I do I will then be worthy of another's company. I still somehow need to learn friendship is not an exchange and it is not a prize. It is a decision. It is, in all forms, a decision for long suffering, because when most people think about friendship they think about the benefits. Most do not stop to consider the costs, the reality that you take on not only your own burdens but that of the other each day you choose them...It is not about the person you usually think most about,...you.

I don't have it figured out, but I need to care about people better, particularly women. It's not that I don't care...I do...that's why I'm even bringing it up, I guess I'm just realizing I fail. I need to believe better things about others in my heart of hearts, most notably that their lives are not about my pleasure...I guess this is why Jesus seems so persistent in this lesson.

Thanks for Reading,
-JS

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I Am Sorry

Family and Friends, To those I love, have loved, may yet love in the life to come…I am sorry. I am sorry this life is not what it should be. I am sorry for your pain. I am sorry that we are tired. That the U and I of our union is too often the I and U of our triune existence, the battle between the self – our secrets - and being seen. We are the loneliest of liars, even to ourselves. We are all caveats and cliché, busy being; that which we are, too often traded for what we are in the face of what we are not. I am sorry. I wish I could tell you I think I am a fool. That I am sinful and scarred. I wish I could tell you that I need you to think I am beautiful, that I am powerful, that I am strong. Dad look at me! …That the words I am sacred, I am holy, only ring true to me in a hollow distant way, the way words spoken of others can be pretended over oneself…a remembering and wishing simultaneously. I wish you could tell me you love me and...

Belieber:

So I finished watching that movie that was made about Justin Bieber the other night..yes I can admit it..it happened. And, I can admit I have seen worse movies. I wasn't caught by it. I'm not a Belieber and definitely didn't catch Bieber Fever, but I will say this. It made you believe in something. It was weird but when he was on the stage and there were thousands of overcome girls singing along, knowing all the words, and celebrating his music, his life, and somehow the something greater that was in him, it made me want the same thing. No, I don't want to be on stage, and I don't want tens of thousands of people screaming after me because they think I am the answer to the ache in their hearts. I'm becoming quit content in my nights alone and days at the sea side. No, I mean I want to be celebrated like that. I want to think that life is meant for something more than heartache and death. It feels like we should all be destined for such a place, a place where we...

Fall

Fall is not an ideal time. It is gray and with more rain comes the morose veil of clouds that usher in the impending quiet of winter. Down cast days to down cast eyes. The colors on the trees visibly play herald to the time of year, the bright reds and gold of the newly lain carpet which wraps the earth in its yearly brilliant burial shroud reminds us, the sharp hint of ripeness on the air, the cold and silence of the nights. They all obstinately lay claim to the undeniable truth, the summer is over, death is come. Alber Camus one said that: In a universe suddenly divested of illusions and lights, man feels an alien, a stranger. His exile is without remedy since he is deprived of the memory of a lost home or hope of a promised land. The divorce between man and life, the actor and his setting is properly a feeling of absurdity. Camus’ here speaks of the painful knowledge that comes upon a person when hope is gone, when a world, once explained seems explained away, th...