There are two parts to any type of day, the beginning and the end – the middle isn’t so notable. Specifically, I guess, it seems like everything notable either happens before lunch or after dinner. Typically, morning is marked by waking up from a nightmare or getting some bad news from the night prior or running out of shampoo in the shower or forgetting to take a multivitamin or arriving at work and realizing you have yet another day of meaningless sitting to do. A night plays out similarly, though it tends to be less mundane. These are the times when you make decisions and have conversations you shouldn’t, engage in poor behavior, have tons of fun, whatever. But the middle, I guess, I don’t know. I can’t think of many exciting things that have happened to me around lunchtime. I suppose I got arrested at like 1:00 p.m. or something, but even that just feels wrong. Like, I can’t imagine major life events happening when the sun is up. I think every bad moment in my life has happened when it’s dark outside besides that. That’s fitting for night, right? I feel like people get a little more honest when they’re closer to the end of the day, masks come off with the work clothes and makeup and I think everyone’s just tired of the performance at that point.
I’m not speaking of anything particular, just a passing thought. I mention it because the weather today was incredible, so I took the afternoon off and went to the park with my hammock and my book. Currently, I’m reading “Works of Love” by Kierkegaard, which is a religious/philosophy book about, well, love. It’s pretty interesting so far, though I have a lot of trouble connecting to what he’s talking about. I’m only on the third little essay, so maybe I’ll connect more as it goes, but at this point, a lot of his writing is about this hierarchy of love, with platonic/spontaneous(romantic)/erotic love being below this kind of dutiful, holy command of love. Something about how when God says “You shall love your neighbor as yourself”, the beginning “You shall love” implies a kind of impartial, all-encompassing, non-conditional love people should follow as an imperative. He says that this kind of love, rooted in faith and continuity and from a source far beyond the predilections and whims of humans, is much more pure and stable, and the others are sort of hollow imitations of this form. Basically, loving is a duty given to us by God, and loving with this in mind and with this form is much more meaningful and stable. Kierkegaard says that the things we think denotate the value of romantic love prove that it is inferior to this dutiful, divine conception. It’s a common line of thought to think that the despair and misery and all that follows a heartbreak is proof that the prior emotion was true and good and meaningful. Big K says that isn’t the case, that holy love contains no despair or misery in its absence. Because there is no absence – the love we’re supposed to feel is condition-less. He says that it is much more meaningful to feel sorrow and love regardless than it is for love to turn to hate in the face of sorrowful occasion. I suppose that’s true.
I have a hard time digesting any of this, though, as I’m not Christian. He’s a very, very Christian man and this is a very, very Christian book. But there have been passages that have made me reevaluate my kind of love, the way I love, my forms of self-love, what it means to love someone as my neighbor and as my friend and as my partner. I don’t think I’ve done a very good job all things considered.
I’m possessive, I’m quick to jealousy and insecurity, I’m afraid of the opinions of people, I’m afraid to disappoint them, I love while expecting love in return, I don’t act in my own or others best interests. He’s talked about all of these so far, how they’re rooted in these “romantic” or “poetic” views of love, and how that’s certified not good. And while I don’t think I agree, it has given me a lot to think about so far. What does it mean to really love someone? What does a life look like where you love independent of anything else? Where that’s as normal and imperative to you as breathing and eating? I’m really not sure.
I don’t know, just some thoughts I had today. The park was fantastic and there was this absolutely sublime moment where I felt my eyes get droopy and the wind was gentle and the sun was warm but not hot and there were children yelling and playing at the park behind me, but it was all muffled like I had cotton in my ears, and I just conked out for the better part of an hour. I truly think there is no better nap than a nap outside. And I suppose if I really only find mornings and nights meaningful, I should try harder to make impressions for myself when the sun is peaking. I’m sure that will be harder when I go back to working full-time, but half of the joy of being a graduate student is getting to act bohemian.
jeez, louise 