Krossie wrote
Hi Krossie,
Such was the myth of Aristophanes, recounted at the famous drinking party in Plato’s Symposium. In this story people were once complete, that is, they had two faces and four legs, etc. But Zeus, thinking we had gotten a bit too big for our britches decided to cut us down to size - literally. So, we’re left today with a yearning to find our original partner in order to make ourselves whole again.
“They love each other, marry, in order to love each other better, more conveniently, he goes to the wars, he dies at the wars, she weeps, with emotion, at having loved him, at having lost him, yep, she marries again, in order to love again, more conveniently again, they love each other, you love as many times as necessary, as necessary in order to be happy, he comes back, the other comes back, he didn’t die at the wars after all, she goes to the station, to meet him, he dies in the train, of emotion, at the thought of seeing her again, having her again, she weeps, weeps again with emotion again, at having lost him again, yep, she goes back to the house, he’s dead, the other is dead, the mother-in-law takes him down, he hanged himself. With emotion, at the thought of losing her, she weeps, weeps louder, at having loved him, at having lost him, there’s a story for you, that was to teach me the nature of emotion, that’s called emotion, what emotion can do, given favourable conditions.”
I suspect you might be familiar with this piece, Krossie. It’s from the great Irish writer, Sam Beckett. It comes from his trilogy, Molloy, Malone Dies and The Unnamable (Beckett was amazing, and colorful: Stabbed by a French pimp he married the French woman who came to his aid).
But there’s a story for you, eh? That’s what emotion can do given favorable conditions. I don’t believe Aristophanes’ myth is accurate. That is, I don’t believe that we complete ourselves by loving. Rather, we open ourselves up to the world. And in so doing, in comes pouring loss, remorse and grief - along with sublime and transcendant joy. Love doesn’t complete you. It tears you into bits; beautiful bits.
Too bad, I’m just getting worked up and I have to go.
Best,
Michael