“Love is as love does. Love is an act of will -- namely, both an intention and an action. Will also implies choice. We do not have to love. We choose to love.”
― M. Scott Peck, The Road Less Traveled
October 2, 2013
Love in the time of... death...
Do we die, a little bit, when we don't grow spiritually? Does the lack of growth mean we are regressing back into the ground, into the seed pod of nothingness?
When do we really die? Is it when our heart stops beating or is it when our soul stops yearning and growing stronger? God... Is it when we realize we don't want to exist, despite the fact that we have people who rely on us, and love us... yet we don't care? We don't care, because we don't love ourselves; our spirituality is stifled, and therefore we are snuffed out...
*****
October 3, 2013Okay, I'll admit it. I began writing the above blog post last night when I was exceptionally inebriated and particularly depressed. Depression and Alcohol are two old friends, of course; alcohol can bring out our best and our worst. This might be obvious, but I wasn't writing about the universal "we," I was writing about this girl. Moi. I remember crying (and drinking copious amounts of champagne) as I was writing last night, thinking, "I am most definitely about to be snuffed out." My soul was being torn from my being. I was going to float. I was going to exist, yet not grow and burn spiritually. What inspired me to want more? What inspired the flames to leap up inside me, and make me feel alive? The answer was going to be nothing. My children made me want to be alive. I wanted to be here to nurture their spiritual growth, and that would be my purpose henceforth... But I was giving up on mine. I was giving up my spirit. I would never be a bonfire... (No, a forest fire)...
No hangover this morning, although my memory was a bit foggy. Last night I drank an entire bottle of champagne on my own, for whatever reason I do not know. I was happy yesterday. Champagne is happy--it's all full of golden bubbles and sweetness--yet my thoughts seemed so confused and dark as the Korbel bottle emptied. What was I searching for? What did I need that I didn't have in my life? Why was I crying for goodness sake?
Today on our doorstep was an Amazon box containing M. Scott Peck's other Road Less Traveled books. Sam stacked them on my bedside table, and when I picked one up tonight titled, Further Along, The Road Less Traveled, and started reading... I felt my eyes widen and then narrow, (and so on and so forth)... This is what I think! This is what I feel! M Scott Peck is a genius (and that means I am too... No, no...). This is a sad revelation, that maybe I'm right about the whole snuffed out thing, as much as it is triumphant to be such a genius. So, you know, maybe I was sad last night, but my drunk blog post was not my alcohol-induced "worst."
If you have not read the original The Road Less Traveled, you really ought to... I mean, if you want to catch up with this genius.
Selections from Further Along The Road Less Traveled:
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