I believe in symbolism. I believe that we attribute meaning to things based upon both conscious and unconscious symbols born both from our experience and from the deep well of archetypes carried through History in the collective unconscious.
I started this blog Valentine's Day, 2014 while deeply hurting.
That same night, something rare and freakish occurred: there was an Earthquake. In Georgia.
I'm not one to read the Bible or quote verse much (although I dig Jesus' messages), but there is something about moving mountains with enough faith. Perhaps, with enough energy from one man so consumed and involved with such a pure feeling (Love (and also Pain)), the earth can shake. Such a romantic idea.
"And his love for her moved mountains as he mourned the loss of true love." I'd buy that book.
Perhaps, one man feels so much, so strongly, and so purely, so rightly that he can influence the world in ways he never knew or even wanted. A divine side effect of being human. Of being a feeling human, so full of the ONE most important emotion...ever. (Or perhaps the same could be said, only substituting the word wrongly. I do not know)
"Blessed are the pure in heart."
Meaning.
Why was there an earthquake this night? Why did I meet this girl? Why did I develop this feeling for Amanda? What does this add to my life? Perhaps I'm shortsighted. Perhaps it adds nothing NOW, but adds only later by present subtraction. Of perhaps it makes me stronger in the future. Perhaps it's preparation. Hopefully for her at a future time.
Why?
Meaning.
Meaning exists by itself. We cannot attribute meaning itself.
We must find the Truth.
~Selah
"Blessed are the pure in heart."
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Addendum to meaning.
Meaning also exists, alas, by extension itself and by extension also to memory.
I remember in high school my first girlfriend's favorite song was "Just Like Heaven," by The Cure. After she broke up with me, it took me years before I could ever listen to that song.
The same thing happens to us always. A thought, a memory that is associated with someone or something that happened to coincide at the same time, whether arbitrary or real.
As luck (or fate, or a joke of the gods) might have it, the first night I met Amanda I mentioned that I was going to Charleston—Folly Beach to be exact—and she said that was her favorite place ever.
We were still very new and talking at the time I went, and when I was going, when I was there, when I was leaving, she is all I could think about. As I walked around looking at things, I saw her. She was there with me. That was my first time there.
"Here I was born, and here I died."
Now, that memory is forever associated with her. Even now, when I think of that place, I think of her, and it depresses me. A memory that is not real is created as a memory of a memory and it haunts me. How long before I can return? The memory is now there, a living creation of my wishes born of desire.
The beautiful place I experienced that is now associated with something that brings me pain and with someone I love.
"You can never go home again."
"Blessed are the pure in heart."
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