from the balcony

from the balcony

Sunday, 9 February 2014

The Heart is a Hungry Beast


I’ve been sitting on my balcony, digesting my breakfast and my thoughts, and letting the lovely ocean air take me where it will. I found myself thinking about a reaction that I had a couple of days ago when I received, along with dozens of others, a letter of love, happiness, and gratitude from our darling Martha. Beside my grown-up response of gladness for her, another set of feelings stirred: why is she saying all of these things to so many when clearly, I am her most special friend! If there is love to go around, I want it to be mine, all mine. Though I have a sense of humour about little kid reactions of this nature, I also recognize their power. I remember a time when my grandson Theoren was about three and his sister Emily, close to one. I was loading them into their car seats for their return from the cottage to Toronto. I leaned over to kiss Emily, saying to her: Goodbye, my darlin’, darlin’. Quick as a shot Theoren leaned forward in his seat and looking directly at me with accusation and anger in his face, said to me: No! I'M your darlin’, darlin’!! – a phrase I had used in speaking to him since he was a baby. Yes, I said to him: you are my darlin’, darlin’ boy and Emily is my darlin’, darlin’ girl. Oh, he said, mollified by this logic, and sat back into his seat.
How we long to be THE ONE, the special adored and irreplaceable one, the recipient of all important resources, not yet understanding that love is unlike more tangible things: it’s not a pie that can be divided so many times until only the crumbs remain. On the contrary, the more it is shared, the more it grows and deepens – something like the story of the loaves and the fishes. But I do understand from personal pain and experience that desire to grasp and to hold and to find security from a kind of delusion that we can ever be all in all to another. We have our special loves and absolutely, Martha and Theoren are two of mine, people who will always hold a historically (as in our shared stories) and personally (as in the elements that have attracted us to one another) created pride of place within me. At the same time as my own life changes as do theirs, and indeed as do those of all of my friends, I can see and feel how we grow and change and expand beyond the boundaries that we have lived within in the past.
The heart is indeed a hungry beast that must be fed, respected, and understood.


2 comments:

  1. Holy shit Brenda you hit that nail on the head as one with a thousand siblings can understand. But understanding does not mean letting go. One just has to forgive oneself for these ungenerous thoughts. My sister Doris is in CR with my brother who lives there. How can she prefer his company over mine? (They golf, I don't). They have tons in common. It's still tough.

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  2. Piggies fight with one another for the tit. They must or they die. Competing with whoever for whatever is completely mammalian behaviour. Love is the most important emotional resource in our entire existence, so the fact that we (mostly inwardly) grate about not getting as much as we hunger for is entirely normal. I think that the kind of thoughts that you speak of are quite natural. How you feel things and how you act on them are quite different things, however. The best way of dealing with this stuff is by having a sense of humour about it, I believe. And don't hesitate to tell the people you love that you want all of them for yourself. They'll love it and they'll know exactly what you mean.

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