The Random Race

Love in Rehabilitation Series : VI

There's never been any doubt that a race starts someplace and ends someplace else. However the marathons and other long distance races often return to where it began. We wonder about that in our own pursuits particularly in a race that doesn't seem to have gone anywhere.

A dance features fluidity of expression. A physical activity applies itself to something to be done. A pin-up poster presents a feast for our eyes and a general demeanor of responses. We don't always stop to view that with a mind of inquiry. Perhaps at some point we should.

The scheme of phonetic integrity of language provides us the insight that the founders of the English language chose to coin the word ' random ' as a kingdom in which everyone was running. However the subsequent meaning we have come to attach to the word random implies that it has no purpose.

The dictionary defines the word as ' lacking any plan or order or purpose; governed by or depending on chance.' This may have been the main reason why man's minds have since come to deal with love as if it lacks any purpose. We observe ourselves responding to the vision of something beautiful and then further contact with that object leads to other impulses.

There's many a man of science and those in positions of strong willful dispositions today who will swear that they witnessed love's random purposelessness in their lives. And that of course has justified the way they imprison love in isolation from other qualities they engage. Is this right? Is there a better way to do it?

Perhaps we are too quick to deny that love as an impulse begins with us and we move with it to bring it into cultivation with someone. Obviously we have not learnt to do it well.

How about a second chance then? … In a kingdom in which everything is running at the same time we cannot bring ourselves to stop it all in order to bring forth our plans for love suggestions from within. We have to go with it … and … do it right. Then you know what you've got.

Its never too late to get it right. There's a young poet here in WC whose parents are choosing a bride for him to marry and settle down. We have some idea from his poetry about how he deals with love. We wish him well.