Day: March 3, 2010

I believe relationships – like life – are defined as much by the problems that have to be overcome as by the good and easy times. I am old enough to know that no relationships are perfect or conflict free, or without anger, hurt and confusion. I don’t seek a perfect love any more than I have or want the perfect life. Love is sometimes, I think, about confronting things and overcoming them, things I have not always been successful doing.

I was mortified by divorce, and such a thing will never happen to me again, if I can possibly help it. And I can.

I am working at it. Like many people without wealthy or supportive parents, or a good college education, or any strong sense of what I might want to do,  I concluded early on that hard work was the only path for me, and so I took it. I have worked hard almost every day of my life, to the point that I have to learn how to not work hard some days.

Learning to love is hard work as well, especially for someone who comes to it so late and in so confused a state. I am not an open person, and in many ways, the farm was a fort for me, a bastion against the world. I was closed up, wary. I realized that I was living a loveless life, and the thought of spending the rest of my life that way was unbearable as I thought of journey’s end, not so far away. It breaks my heart, still, to think of that.

When I first  realized that I loved Maria, I knew I had to change, and to learn quickly. I began talking to women about what they wanted from men, and I was very surprised by much of what I heard. Many women told me they feared the anger in men, and their tendency to want to control lives, schedules and relationships. Women told me that they wished men would talk to them more. And think of the small things in life that show that one is being thought of and loved – small gifts, a cup of tea, help with work and chores, support and encouragement.

I was struck – saddened – at how many women told me they got much more love from dogs and cats than from men, and by how many women had completely given up on the idea that they would find a man they could or wished to be with. I saw that many women saw their emotional lives and consciousness as existing beyond the awareness or interest of the men around them.

And of course I found many women who dearly loved their mates and were profoundly connected to them.

I focused on this. It seemed to me these women were talking about soulmates as well as lovers. Partners in life. People who saw the world the same way, the people you see talking to one another in restaurants, as opposed to those many I see chewing their food in grim silence.

I write about love because it is important. Because you have to think about it, if you want to have it. And work hard to get it. And keep it. This work, I think, is never done.

I wonder if you can see the future in puddles, as Maria suggests. I can’t predict the future, or even see it. I have a good bead on tomorrow, though. Get up early, work on my short story about Lucky, and how he spends his day when the humans leave the house to go to work. I think I will get up early, around 4 and go to work writing. Then take a walk in the woods. Then take some black and white photos.

Then write some more. Then make lunch for Maria. Then go to Glens Falls to take Mary Kellogg out to dinner before her reading at 7 p.m. at the Red Fox Bookstore there. She will read from her new book “Whistling Woman,” her second volume of wonderful poetry.

She and I will both talk about our friendship and collaboration, and the photos I have in the book. Then we will both be available to sign books. The Red Fox is a wonderful bookstore in an up and coming city. Susan and Naftali know books and love to talk to their customers.  Hope to see some of you there.

Mary is an extraordinary human and a gifted poet, and an honor to know and love.

Lenore in the barn.

Lenore knows how to love, but the love of a dog is different, of course, than the love of people, although we often get confused about that. I think giving up on the idea of love is a kind of death. I have, like many others, known great sadness, fear and loneliness at times, and I think that I did not understand what love was, or what it meant. Love is difficult. It involves opening yourself up. Learning how to be selfless. Truly considering the life and needs of another. Putting your own needs aside. Listening. Learning. Sometimes, profoundly changing. Love was a great shock to me. I didn’t know what it was. I am struggling to comprehend it. It is essential to me, an experience that is helping me see who I really am, and who I want to be.

It forces me to be better, to grow.

Going for black and white for a bit, here a shot from Bunker Hill Road. The winter woods.

March 3, 2010 – There are many differing views of love in our culture. That it’s only for the young. Or only something one sees in the movies. That it is imbued with romantic and idealized notions and feelings. That it doesn’t last long. That it is rare.  That it wearies under the pressures and ravages of time and life. That it isn’t important, when compared to much of what is in the news – money, war, catastrophe, politics.

Many people give up on the idea of love, especially when they’ve lost it, gotten older, been discouraged or distracted. I gave up on love. I thought it was for kids. I didn’t know what it was. I was not open to it.

So I am learning to love now, an extraordinary gift for a man in late middle age, and a seminal experience, one of the most significant and compelling of my life. I was thinking of one of my favorite books, “Learning to  Love: End Of The Journey”, Thomas Merton’s last book, and an account of his falling in love and having to choose between the woman he loved and his faith. So I want to write about love over the next week or so, an ambitious and personal subject, and an important one.

I have come to believe love is open to people if they are open to it, and it is not a simple process. Are we available to it? Seeking it? Do we have faith that it is there for us? A lot of people don’t.

Learning and changing. More to come. It is something that ought to be shared.