We get blinded by beauty. We fall in it and call it love. Not once, but many times over. Growing older and we’re still blinded. It’s like not being able to help it looking into the sun. Self-destructive?
A bit, I’d say, but that’s not that bad. It is poetic, and makes for handsome stories and memories of magic. We all go along with it but most of the time we are like lambs to sacrifice, innocent and unsuspecting. I found a book about an enchantress, a promising title. Me? I could never resist enchantresses. When I got lucky to enchant them in turn and allow the heavens to break loose, then, I really lost the sense of earthiness. However, the more and the higher my flying, the heavier and heavier I got, the burden. The enchantresses I met have always made me pregnant with jealousy and insecurity. For sure most men are like that. Poor souls that we are. Ah, but women too, I’ve seen them turning from self-assured princesses into desperate self-pitying puppets on strings. So what then? What do we do about our jealousy and insecurity? We persuade ourselves to trust. We must trust! Imperatively we declare it and demand it of ourselves, in the mirror. We demand it until we do, we trust. We helplessly abandon ourselves to this precarious comfort. And we trust until betrayal hits us in the head. We trust until betrayal looks us in the eyes mercilessly. We do this eternally, over and over again. Do we still question? Yes we still do, but it’s a kind of echo questioning, comes from the depths. The questioning doesn’t abandon us completely. We still ask the questions but only as afterthoughts to a fleeting moment, sometime, somewhere. We continue to persuade ourselves that we really trust the other. Then, we again taste the bitter cup of betrayal when the time arrives. Only rarely that time doesn’t arrive. At best we abandon ourselves to an unquestioning, all accepting consolation that “that’s the way life is”. Won’t comment here about the decadence of such an attitude but please feel free to reflect on it by yourselves.