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It's time to write about love. I'm already boring myself.

Why did I stop? Or when did I lose it? Myself? These questions never occurred to me until I was asked. You don't see yourself when you change, but others always do. They always want you to be the same as they last saw or heard from you. While I--I've not for a while looked at the mirror. Is that sadness I see or a silent contentment, one which negates change and postpones consciousness? I better look again.

I must write about love. I didn't even know I stopped.

When do we stop speaking love? When do we stop using it in our sentences or imagining it in the middle of an insomniac night? Concerns, deadlines, cheap pleasures--these wound the very heart of love, killing its dream which in each case is what really love is. The day you cease aspiring for love, no longer able to recall that tremble and stupid anxiety of wanting to see a beloved, that is the day you have either "matured," as they say, or died. Ha! All the love in the world and none for the most of us!

I will write about love to get my share back.

I understand Camus now when he said that quantity trumps quality. Maybe that is why I was thinking about that earlier in the afternoon, having remembered writing about "being many" a four years ago. (You know you're dead as a writer when you quote yourself, i.e., Marcel. So I will not put the link.) Purposes, dreams, goals, ends, a job--having all these lead you into solitary confinement. You didn't even know you were walking toward your own death, wearing the very belt that the hangman will use. Now you can no longer be anyone else: you're a teacher and that's it, a student and no more, a salesman, employer, employee, etc. What difference does it make that you are whatever you are when you are only what you already are? I want to be all, or I want to be nothing because nothing could still be anything. But never a something. . . .

I used to write about love when I was still many. Love loves many things, never a few, wanting all.



  1. "Between Austria and Italy, there is a section of the Alps called the Semmering. It is an impossibly steep, very high part of the mountains. They built a train track over these Alps to connect Vienna and Venice. They built these tracks even before there was a train in existence that could make the trip. They built it because they knew someday, the train will come." - from the movie, Under the Tuscan Sun

    Just continue writing. It will come. :)

  2. But on hindsight, I realize that I've stopped looking/talking about love in a long time too. I bellieve love illuminates, it makes something "more". But I also used to think that the day when you cease aspiring for love is the moment when you have become most prepared to give and receive love, or have "matured" as you say. But I had never thought that it could be the day that you died with it too. That's kinda sad, but it does make sense.

  3. We all have our crepuscular moments. . . . And yes, we are asked to tarry, never to hurry. Sometimes hope just lacks, though, don't you think? We need assurances when things fall apart. But that is not important . . .

    What is is what you raised. They say there are different "forms" or "stages" of love. Eros, agape, caritas, what have you, supposedly in the ascending order. But what if we had it upside down? What if eros, desire, passion, longing, great temptations and a bold attempts--what if this was what "love" was really all about? Then most of us are wrong, looking in the other direction, misguided, failed lovers.--

    To aspire: nothing can be higher, for precisely aspiration seeks what is high and elevated. Now the question then lies in the different objects we aspire for. Stability? Maturity? Contentment? No one can also say these are "wrong," but then no one can also say that they are higher. One cannot tell a boy that his having a crush on his teacher is juvenile, "normal for his age," young love, "something that will pass." These are things that he neither understands nor feels. Perhaps a lesson: To him his own love.

    I'm sorry. Got carried away. And I just finished reading--so nahawa ako. Don't you feel that sometimes?

    Thank you, Trish. I appreciate it. I hope all is well with you.

  4. "We need assurances when things fall apart."
    Exactly. You've put into words what I couldn't express for the past few days.

    What you said about love, that to each his own, reminds me of Scheler's ordo amoris, "an order, or logic, of the heart". I think I encountered this in Philo 102. I learned that there is a hierarchy of values, all of which are based on love. But there can be a "disorder of the heart" if you prefer a value of a lower rank to a higher rank. I remember relating this to Rorty's final vocabulary, that you can't impose your own final vocabulary over another's. I'm not sure if I'm still saying the right things though. Correct me if I'm wrong, you're the authority on this. :)

    What have you been reading? I know the feeling, but I haven't felt it in a long time. I wish reading law books would have the same effect.

    This week has started to become heavy already. Plus the sore throat isn't helping. But like you, I will look forward to good food (We have Shabuway already?), good reads, and long naps.
    Okay, I'm already blabbing. But thank you for
    lending an ear.

    I hope your week starts off right! More soon, when I get well soon.

  5. Hey Trish,

    I've only encountered Scheler in passing (in students' comprehensive exams and theses), but I don't teach him. What I do teach is Kierkegaard's stages of life, and Pascal's three orders, which are very similar to Scheler's values.

    I remember asking a student once: why should Scheler's highest value (spiritual and the holy, if I remember correctly) be the highest value? For him, these value are a priori--that is, given beforehand, as if they are true and eternal to begin with, as if an imposition. (I'm sure I simplify.) But again, these orders may in principle be upside down. Of course, through experience we may in fact feel that the highest value would be the religious. But then again.--

    The usual fare for class, Nietzsche. (I've a report to give soon). I can imagine how you feel. Nothing against it, as it's just not my taste, but I have this feeling that law, with all its uses and the possibilities it can offer the marginalized, may teach me little. I'm no reader, so I choose the books which instruct me how to live. One may see this as a little selfish. But again--to each his love; what is important is that you do love something good. I know good men who went into law who came from philosophy. I look up to them.

    Yes, there's one in Greenbelt 5, and in Powerplant soon. Do, do try. Try the spicy miso. Might make you feel better.

  6. That was a question in my mind too. I wondered what was Sceheler's basis for such order.

    Are you taking up further studies as well? I am actually frustrated with the law. I find it too rigid. In every case, judges decide on a limited set of facts and rules. You can't be creative with the law. It is what it is. If you have failed to assert your right based on a written contract within 10 years, the court (as a general rule) will decide against you -- just because the law on prescription says so. The courts also often proclaim: "dura lex sed lex" (The law is harsh but it is the law.) Ang angas, di'ba? Nakakainis. Hehe.

    But I'm still here.

    What are these books which instruct you how to live? Might actually need those!

    Powerplant's just across school. I hope they open there soon! Will definitely try the spicy miso. Eating out always make me feel better. Will gladly share to you my 'discoveries'! Tell me which area and I can probably recommend a restaurant or two. :)


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