Minimalist Piece No.6: On Love and Marriage

Minimalist Piece. No. 6.

Perhaps even in a safe place, the trauma endured makes it difficult to feel relaxed.

^{Refuge by Paul Klee: you might want to read this as a meditation before starting on the 6th piece.}

How love marries people but a marriage does not keep them in love.

Somebody once asked me, if I was faithful. I instantly guffawed with much mirth: moi?! What is the real question, please? I am bored by stating the obvious.

I studied their eyes carefully as they were trying to make out what I had replied. I elaborated compliantly. I may not sign to an overarching commitment easily; you know, that deal that gives you and them more stretch to stray outside the narrow confines of reciprocity. Life causes distances which take time to repave. The contract allows for those stretches where love cannot be entirely free to just be made and poured into a path of freedom to be known as is; the vows that are made to relax the tension that is love, and to give you time to break the pause into one of distinction not void.

For that is what a marriage agreement is, isn’t it? A promise to the other to help them stay in love and not become distracted by all the things you regret on your deathbed. It is impossible for me to be true and settle. I have done, and I paid the dues accordingly. In the line of love I am in you cannot be two-faced: sociably adapted and pure divinity. One has to chose and all they who say there is a middle way, a colour grey, the printed lines to follow, are not speaking of love but of a path to guide the inner child to a refuge.

I am faithful, true, to every step of the way, where I do compromise, notwithstanding my high ideals. For example, if they decide on needing more time alone that is not a reason for me to move on and dedicate my time allotted them on anything or anyone else. I consider this to be faithful.

Having arrived at my only answer possible, I had seen by then what the questioner was trying to ascertain: you have left your wife, and sent packing all your other lovers, but by which pull if there was not overt push? The questioner had accepted that I had held nothing against my partners (although they were unfaithful) but was already surmising the most obvious reply, that I got bored easily or that my borderline mania drove me always on to new projects like a frenetic Picasso or twisted Dalí.

Back then, when this questioning took place, I was still keen to defend myself, if not for me, than for surely the hordes of others struggling to be true to what they see, and I refuted the label of manic-depressive or borderline or whatever he was really trying to call me, that I might find the leverage with which to persuade. Then I simply pointed to the common-sense stand to take when you are left alone: you reopen yourself to connection.

They might have been living still in the same house with me, but does one really need to be reminded of their presence by a ring or a deed or a threat of social disdain when one simply carries on as one is, with love to make pressing into one’s fingertips? In this context, possibly, you could call me a cheat, I think is what your are looking for. It is true I had an affair while with my wife, while she was stoned each night to better be able to hear her music. I did not go looking for it. I was just unable to turn down my frequency to match hers. I do not have such knobs on my soul to fiddle with. It is a great handicap, I should be receiving benefits for! Not your judgement and mistrust.

And so the inquiries into my person left the questioner quite unsatisfied, or proven right in his belief than my love was far from unconditional (I never said it was, I am not God, but bound by the conditions of what is possible).

Epilogue

There is no starsign in the zodiac that does better than to put a ring on it than mine: it helps the world know that all their intimacy has been accounted for, and whatever sparks may rain off their sprightliness is free to be caught in any pail or teacup but let there be no mistake, they were not drawn onto the dancefloor by the others; they flurry in on a backdraught of the love made at home.

And so yes, I am never not faithful to love.
But no, I cannot pretend to be in love when the other is not.
I see how you confuse the twain, love and marriage, and bundle them into one easy deal (I won’t say cheap out loud) – which is sure to suit the needs of most.

As I grow bored, for an indulgent minute, then, let me be clear, if it does you a small favour.
I toy with noone.
And they who think otherwise shouldn’t be too hard on themselves.
I have said before, where would we be, if stopped kidding ourselves? More faithful to our spiritual needs, to be sure. But let’s not be over-hasty, and first ask ourselves, have you seen my spirit today?