Saturday, February 5, 2011
Why Love is Blind
A professor once told me that there are two ways in which you can interview someone.. as a miner digging deep in search of facts and truths and lies and as a traveller, floating by, in search of a story.. nothing else.
I used to think there's a bifurcation possible; that one can be either of the two and that one MUST choose.
But I think it's really 'me' vs. 'everyone else' now. When I tell my own story, I flow. I create. I remember what I need to and want to and forget all the rest. I travel without a map or a planner. I travel for the sake of travelling, illuminating each and every corner of my being.
But when I listen to another, I feel like I'm stretching. I don't know that topography. I don't know the weather there. And I want to be safe. So I ask questions that have 'right' and 'wrong' answers. In other words, I find excuses for not travelling.
I'm both a miner and a traveller. What you bring out in me depends on how I see you, therefore.
It's a bit like the Sun and the Moon really.
At night, you don't mind travelling to the realms of the impossible. Dreaming. Believing. Taking leaps of faith.
But it's daylight that exhausts you. You open your eyes. You begin to see the loopholes. The crevices. The obstacles. The 'not-worth-it's. Suddenly, everything has a name. They catch you red-handed because the light shines and they KNOW it's you.. they KNOW it's red. And they THINK they know what it means. Yes, memories of the night hiss below the surface as they let the past interfere with the present.
What would you not do to be sure?
Maybe. Perhaps. Wonderful, wonderful words.
Why do you want to see everything? What about the sense of touch? Why can't you feel?