Mulling Over the Human Condition

"There's two boys holding
stars for wishing.
One boy's sure,
one says "I don't know."
"Sometimes I feel we've been missing
love." and away they go."
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And hearts that fall in two
pretend they don't show
Holding back the rain
Baby let it go
You don't get much without giving
You don't get much without giving
Hey Hey Yeah."
The Bo Deans--"You Don't Get Much"

Its a funny thing. The human heart, the figurative one, is the seat of a tremendous longing that drives even the hardest, the coldest, the deadest of us to do things that we might otherwise be at a loss to explain.

Anyone who has read this page for any period of time can tell you that I wear my heart on my sleeve. What isn't as well-known is that this is a very recent circumstance.

I used to be a monocolor person. I could be happy. I could be angry. Hurt and sadness were never to be given any expression. Any other emotion was simply incomprehensible to me. And yet, even in this mindset as a teenager, I had longings. They weren't anything I could understand. Nothing I could ever find the words to express, but I'll be damned if they didn't find expression in the most pernicious places. In my case, they usually found their voice in music. Maybe in a motif I was playing. Maybe in a compelling drum cadence. Maybe a vocal harmony. Any of these could provoke a reaction in me that I could not explain, as some longing or emotion could find a voice in this medium.

As a junior in high school, I first heard the song I quoted at the beginning of this essay. I know now what it spoke to in me. That same year, our music teacher wanted to expand our performances to include vocals. Much to my surprise, I was asked if I wanted to sing. I was even more surprised when I heard my own voice say yes. When asked what I wanted to sing, I handed her this CD and told her which track. She put it in the stereo and turned it up. I closed my eyes and instantly, I rolled on the ever turning rhythm, my voice in harmony with the vocals, and I was awash in a mass of feelings that I couldn't even identify. When the music stopped, I opened my eyes to find hers regarding me with a quiet, fiery look. She was clearly fascinated. I'm sure she wondered where this incredible longing had been hiding in this inexhaustible fount of sarcasm. Bless her soul, she probed, and poked, and prodded, but couldn't get me to describe what had affected me so about the song. It wasn't any one's fault. It was like asking someone who was blind all their life and had somehow been given sight to describe color. The sensation was simply overwhelming, but it spoke to a longing I didn't know that I even had: to find the person in life meant for me. Much to my chagrin, I found that person later that year, but since I was completely unequipped to deal with emotions that person stirred up in me, I ran like a spooked rabbit. The point is that I have never met anyone who didn't have this kind of longing.

It takes different forms. Some want this other piece of themselves to proclaim the union to the world. Some want a quiet, restrained respect than comes with the assurance that the other is there, no matter what. Some want a silent simpatico, where nothing ever needs be said, the quiet anticipation of the other's needs being all the fulfillment they'll ever need. Some long only for acceptance, understanding, and the patience to allow each other to be who they are as the journey of their lives unfolds.

The variations are endless. And the greatest secret is that for many, if most, but not all of these longings are satisfied, then there is an incentive and joie de vive that cannot be suppressed, because each day brings the promise that the lover will grow into that need, or that you might stumble into a longing that you never knew you had, and is so much more satisfying than the one left behind.

Like anything in life, these can be the start down a dark path. Sometimes we stumble. Sometimes we get impatient. Sometimes we feed this unfulfilled longing to our own discontent, and that ininition will grow, until it towers over our emotional landscape so we are unable to see anything else. This usually doesn't end well, in a plastic society where the next upgrade is right around the corner. It is simply too easy to pack up our longings and move on than it is to invest the time, effort, and true emotion into a resolution. We are afraid of the changes we might find with commitment. Instead, the pursuit of fulfillment for our longings becomes a never ending chase after a mirage, and the traveller never sees that the excess is rooted in emptiness. Think I'm wrong? Look around you. Think about people you know. It saddens me to know that the simplest expressions of intimacy could take their feet off the path.

And I quietly marvel at the basic expressions of these longings we see every day, all around us. The spouse trying to redeem the other from emotional divorce. The simple expression of gratitude and dedication from one faithful companion to another. The sincere desire in another to have the same kind of relationship, and have it so honestly acknowledged. The quiet desire to leave this world holding the hand of the one who walked by their side for so long.

The expressions of our longings tell the world who we are, with greater truth and more focused detail than any words could ever express, even if we could even be counted on to tell the truth. And I'm glad for this. Without the expression of the longings of our hearts, we would simply be alone, together.