"Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."
Alfred Lord Tennyson
I used to joke and say I'd rather play it safe and avoid the possibility of being hurt. It wasn't all a joke. I was, deep inside, always a little wary, and sometimes, loved with reservation. But when my son died in 2011, I knew my deep love for him was worth far more than avoiding the pain of my heartache over him being gone. That's one of the reasons I say I learned so much about love from loving him. The loss of my son and a few other things in my life from the last few years have opened my heart in a way that it has never been opened before. The wariness has diminished greatly.
In the comments on the "My Prayer" post, Rach said, "I love how this is all about risking to open your self up but at the same time being cautious. That feels true to me." There is something in her words for me. We live in a world where people are going to hurt us, disappoint us, occasionally totally betray us. I think I lean towards being Pollyanna-ish at times, but beneath that is always the awareness of the possibility of being hurt. That's why I need those warnings in my prayer, or my creed, or my manifesto, to remind me that there is no magical way to avoid being hurt. It's going to happen. But that doesn't mean I need to live closed off and afraid of being hurt.
Love, trust, faith, openness, allowing one's self to be seen--they are always going to be risky propositions. But if we can approach these choices thoughtfully with our eyes and heart wide open, the risks are so well worth it. Just don't go at it blind. Know that you are taking a risk. Know that you might get hurt. Perhaps that awareness will keep bitterness at bay. But also know that your risk might lead to a very satisfying and life-giving relationship.
Maybe what I'm trying to say is that I have had a shift in my thinking. Maybe, in spite of what I've written here about risk and pain, I'm come to a place where I am less focused on avoiding pain and more focused on taking the risk of loving and being open? I don't know. What I know is that I am grateful for the teachers and healers in my life who have helped proved to me that, many times, the risk towards love is well worth taking.
More good thoughts, Diane. I appreciate your sharing this. You might have notice I tend towards playing it safe, too. I recognize the truth of Tennyson's sentiment, but I don't much like the reality of it, if that makes sense. But then, I also know that the best things in life often don't come easily.
ReplyDeleteLife is full of sucky contradictions. And wonderful results.
Dadburn sucky contradictions!
DeleteYou are correct. Tennyson is correct for the most part. I only regret one person I loved and he was abusive. Even my father, who was a different kind of abusive, gave me more than he eventually took.
ReplyDeleteThis is a wise post for those of us who haven't lost someone as precious as a child.
The toughest loss i have had is Bert, my 5-year-old friend, who died when we were that age. That one hurt deep. But I love that he was my friend when I was too little and Aspergery to let any other peers in. He confirms my humanity. So I don't regret his place for me at all.
I'm sorry for your loss of Bert, Cyn. I love that he was your friend too. Perhaps he helped paved the way for some of your future friends to be your friend? If so, I am grateful.
DeleteI love this so much. Please keep it. It hurts to love. So, some people stop. I am glad you did not. You just get better at it. I am always surprised at how my daddy's death opened up so much in me. Almost like I took a piece of him inside of me.
ReplyDeleteI think that is a good way to look at it, Mindy, that you took a piece of him inside of you. I've been privileged to see and admire your opening up.
DeleteIt's a delicate balance. I have a nature that wants to tumble into relationships with everyone - best friends, children, the lady in the grocery store - I just like to interact with people. Sometimes that's risky. Sometimes I keep things very surface, and it suffices, but there's always the person who becomes closer than I expected. You speak well about these things.
ReplyDeleteSo true, Susan, about the delicate balance. I love the persons who become closer than I expected, it's a pleasant surprise!
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