Love dances in many rhythms. We find attraction, friendship, laughter and connection. We tease and taunt, give and receive, hope and allow hope to return back to us. Most often, as we become accustomed to long-lasting relationships, these small notes and tempos can change key, ever so slightly so as to slowly erect shelters that quietly yet distinctly rise up in crescendo to stave off certain vulnerability. And we forget, or nearly forget, ourselves.
Routine and patterns, responsibility and worry invade like pelting rain against worn plywood. The pitter patter of water drops fall in staining splotches, dampening the spirit, inviting the mundane to fall into disconnect, complacency or an imbalance of giving and respect.
Many of us were born to parents who hold to the staunch and rigid tradition that says marriage, no matter what the difficulty, signifies success regardless of the wood rot eroding the very basic structure of the union and its subsequent fallout for even children. And should the divide ever occur, they equally participate in the assumption that there should be a negative party, pronounce a deceiver, and then declare shame or inadequecy. And it would seem that in general, although broken for the majority, society even still supports this needless placard.
Having experienced a measure of couplehood, I maintain and loudly proclaim that such a viewpoint is damaging. This life is a journey. Choices, relationships, unions, paths, learning, all happen at different places in our lives. People come together as soulmates and sometimes part in pain or understanding, yet should not be condemned to abject failure. Growth springs from trial and honesty.
A structure of any kind cannot be built without first inflicting the pounding of a nail, causing an apparent hole in an otherwise flawless grain of wood. Yet what comes from that hole, is the fitting of pieces of timber, multiplied and connected, painful yet erected, until strength supersedes the initial drill-bit.
Such is the being and creating, giving and learning, in life, family, self and relationships. I maintain that there are such relationships that are meant to be forever. But those that aren't are no less important, no less beautiful, no less right. Anything which brings out the very basics of a human being and allows them the opportunity to see and seek a better piece of themselves is never failure. And neither party should be condemned to any derision.
Pressure points if left to themselves, do explode and destroy. There is no glory to be had in staying for the implosion. Neither is there shame in seeking relief or acknowledging weakness. Some relationships have ultimate testing points, perhaps revisited multiple times, eased just as many, yet innately meant to remain in truth, together. More brave are the couples who recognize and valiantly honor these admissions of honesty, for they will find healing power regardless of whether the bond is meant to remain or dissolve.
Our culture has become one of synthetic shields. Anywhere you look, it would seem that none wish to admit to even the smallest fault. Once happy with the simplicity of plywood, most seek the mask of stucco which easily stains in the desert sands and winds. Almost humorous were it not so pathetic is this quest for perfection of image, since most eventually find the affectation more difficult to cleanse. I have to wonder about people and the unease with self, fear really, should anyone discover that after all they are simply basic human beings. Real, fallible, beautiful, scarred, wounded, talented, brave.
I contend that although storms do come, treacherous and damaging, they bring with them the purest cleanse and deepest restoration of essential foundations. Storms cut to the quick, abide no flimsy facade, and dare our spirits to either concede to mired defeat or rebuild in greater stature. Timeless moments captured in humility and grace, dawn with the rays of sun as they slowly stretch and reach over renewed and shimmering sand. Sand once packed like the dirtiest silt and littered with garbage or broken and abandoned shells.
Tides coming in and going out. Rain songs changing in tempo and forte. Realism, love, the bravery to shift, own, give, and never, ever take for granted. The choice and commitment to never lose sight of the value in any human interchange and to accept the miracles of imperfection.
Many of us were born to parents who hold to the staunch and rigid tradition that says marriage, no matter what the difficulty, signifies success regardless of the wood rot eroding the very basic structure of the union and its subsequent fallout for even children. And should the divide ever occur, they equally participate in the assumption that there should be a negative party, pronounce a deceiver, and then declare shame or inadequecy. And it would seem that in general, although broken for the majority, society even still supports this needless placard.
Having experienced a measure of couplehood, I maintain and loudly proclaim that such a viewpoint is damaging. This life is a journey. Choices, relationships, unions, paths, learning, all happen at different places in our lives. People come together as soulmates and sometimes part in pain or understanding, yet should not be condemned to abject failure. Growth springs from trial and honesty.
A structure of any kind cannot be built without first inflicting the pounding of a nail, causing an apparent hole in an otherwise flawless grain of wood. Yet what comes from that hole, is the fitting of pieces of timber, multiplied and connected, painful yet erected, until strength supersedes the initial drill-bit.
Such is the being and creating, giving and learning, in life, family, self and relationships. I maintain that there are such relationships that are meant to be forever. But those that aren't are no less important, no less beautiful, no less right. Anything which brings out the very basics of a human being and allows them the opportunity to see and seek a better piece of themselves is never failure. And neither party should be condemned to any derision.
Pressure points if left to themselves, do explode and destroy. There is no glory to be had in staying for the implosion. Neither is there shame in seeking relief or acknowledging weakness. Some relationships have ultimate testing points, perhaps revisited multiple times, eased just as many, yet innately meant to remain in truth, together. More brave are the couples who recognize and valiantly honor these admissions of honesty, for they will find healing power regardless of whether the bond is meant to remain or dissolve.
Our culture has become one of synthetic shields. Anywhere you look, it would seem that none wish to admit to even the smallest fault. Once happy with the simplicity of plywood, most seek the mask of stucco which easily stains in the desert sands and winds. Almost humorous were it not so pathetic is this quest for perfection of image, since most eventually find the affectation more difficult to cleanse. I have to wonder about people and the unease with self, fear really, should anyone discover that after all they are simply basic human beings. Real, fallible, beautiful, scarred, wounded, talented, brave.
I contend that although storms do come, treacherous and damaging, they bring with them the purest cleanse and deepest restoration of essential foundations. Storms cut to the quick, abide no flimsy facade, and dare our spirits to either concede to mired defeat or rebuild in greater stature. Timeless moments captured in humility and grace, dawn with the rays of sun as they slowly stretch and reach over renewed and shimmering sand. Sand once packed like the dirtiest silt and littered with garbage or broken and abandoned shells.
Tides coming in and going out. Rain songs changing in tempo and forte. Realism, love, the bravery to shift, own, give, and never, ever take for granted. The choice and commitment to never lose sight of the value in any human interchange and to accept the miracles of imperfection.
- This Carman Girl
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