Tag Archives: love

The “Right” Person.

“We All Married The Wrong Person.”

The caption of one of today’s “freshly pressed” blogs.

With the accompanying image of an anonymous couple decked out in timeless (relatively) nuptial traditionals, this anti-idealistic statement would sure stand out in the best-seller pile. A definite head-turner in the contagious current western mindset obsessed with shortcuts to an increasingly illusive happiness.

Especially if its in the realm of marriage / love / life-partner. Then they’ve really got you.

But the blog author isn’t using this as a best-selling tagline. She’s sharing with her readers the powerful notion that nobody really married the “right person.”

While many individuals (including myself) find their romanticism flailing in protest against this seemingly gloomy vantage point, what I like about her post is that it doesn’t really negate the idea of believing that someone is “right” for you, or even the “one” for you.

Instead, it kind of flips the idea on its head.

Quoting a certain acclaimed Dr. Haltzman, who’s interview (by the author) this post is based on, the post reads:

“If we believe we must find the right person to marry, then the course of our marriage becomes a constant test to see if we were correct in that choice,” says Dr. Haltzman, adding that today’s culture does not support standing by our promises. Instead, he says we receive the repeated message, “You deserve the best.” These attitudes contribute to marital dissatisfaction, he says.

The simple art of being comfortable and happy in one’s own existence has been of interest to me lately. It seems the more I read, the more I find messages that point to the distorted, bottomless bit of consumerism that we live in. As Dr. Haltzman’s quote states, it seems this mentality has seeped into every realm of our lives.

I can’t deny the thrilling feeling of a new start, a fresh energy entering my life, when I throw money away on a new fancy smartphone. It’s really just a gadget, we all know that. But there’s something so compelling about how this particular interface will just somehow inspire me, or be a new start for me. I can’t help comparing this to the thrill of a new relationship.

Perhaps this is what Haltzman means when he says that:

“…even if we think we know a person well when we marry them, we are temporarily blinded by our love,”

It may be this high, this rush of excitement, that we call “love,” that led him to research:

“…the negative effects in our consumer society of having too many choices—which may lead to increased expectations and lower satisfaction.”

The author goes on to share the wisdom of similar research from another published authority:

“I’ll cut to the chase and reveal that people are happier with the choices they make when there are relatively few choices from which to choose. With too many choices, we can become overburdened and regretful and constantly question our decision. Today, individuals may feel they have many choices of mates, and fear lost opportunities with potential “right” partners.”

As a not-so-young single person with more than one serious relationship that isn’t any more, this isn’ the most comforting thing to hear. What’s more interesting, however, is how easily I buy into (very often literally) the huge amount of choices there are.

Spending money on something that I think will be IT (like the latest smartphone), yet craving the perceived luxury of more choices. The amount of information, detail, feature, specifications that the market is flooded with is enough to make one giddy. At times it truly does. It makes me sick, especially my own susceptibility to it.

I can’t help wondering if, and someone just knowing, that this greedy, starved search for fulfillment translates to the more personal realm of one’s life too.



Filed under |Introspection & Experiences|

falling head over heals

watching a bbc lifestyle show about a restaunteer looking for the perfect location to open a restaurant in Italy. Vito, the restaunteer, was excited by the commercial possibilities of a sight in Modena. But he fell head over heels, the narrator tell us, with the isolated property on the hill with a spectacular view, and the magic touch of florence gold melding it into sublimity.

its kind of how it is with men, isn’t it? you can get excited about the compatibility, comfortability and confidence you get from a certain relationship, but you ultimately, perhaps, fall in love with something that just mesmerizes you.

or not?

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Surrendering to Love

Finally, the central passion of this story sees some fruition.

I can’t help thinking along those terms as I forge the broken link in my stream of reading Chopin. I’ve enjoyed meandering around many different facets of the book – the feminist themes – the varying personas of Edna – etc. Now that we come to some materialization of the silent passion between Robert and Edna, I can’t help but going back to that gorgeous line:

“…the same glance which had penetrated to

the sleeping places of her soul and awakened them.”

The glance referred to here so majestically is of course, none other than Robert Lebrun’s. [I love how any analysis / description about period writing always refers to lead male characters with their full name.]  I realize I always tend to struggle against looking at a novel as a love story, as much as I can. I always try to fit it into context, to see how the central or multiple threads of love and relationships reflect on the social undercurrents or overtones of the piece. I think someone else quoted this line and it made it stand out and remind me that the story is about this passion, this love, and that love is very much connected to the absolute main theme of the book: awakening.

Not only does this quote, I must sadly admit, rather cheesily take my breath away, it also provides a relationship epiphany for real life:

The passions / infatuations or deepest and most significant relationships of our lives could possibly be those that we associate, for some reason, with a time period, process or sentiment in our lives that we cherish or cling to. Perhaps this is just a new packaging of an old truth: that we fall in love with versions of ourselves at a certain time, and the commitment and love spun from that time binds us together (hopefully) as we change.

This quote illuminates the same for Edna, I feel, with such discerning elegance. Besides the aforementioned Darcy-esque pang of quavering passion that it renders amongst many a girlish reader [or so I hope and assume], it almost provides some stability in the rather daring process of her awakening. She does experience sensuality during this phase apart from Robert, and her enjoyment and awareness of this side of herself emboldens her. But it is, as we are reminded here, Robert who… [urh, if you will].. planted the seeds.

It’s strange how, as a reader, I felt a certain nocturnal, balmy magic slip away from the text as Edna leaves the sea side and settles back into her city life. It is truly as if that place, time and Robert all conspired together to set her free.

Onwards I read.

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Filed under |These Are Not Book Reviews|

For the Love of a House.

these are currently the only images I have to offer in honour of that breeding ground of my aesthetics:

|23 al-hamra, off shaheed-i-millat road|

sadly, these are images taken while we were packing to leave it. well, packing hardly describes the process of dismantling four generations of a family’s life, belongings and heirlooms.

suffice it to say that even in its dismembered state,

it exuded the poise and elegance of a

sepia photograph

This lamp was part of a set, which, like many other things, had been there for as long as I can remember. It’s amber glow, mellow and ochre like a sepia tone itself, seems to infuse the walls as an homage to memory.

A cacophony of sharp-angles, mirroring archways and a definitive split of colour made the dynamism of this home seem archaic to my brash, 80’s infused childhood self.

I wish I could do more justice to the memory of this house. I’m working on recovering old photographs from various sources in order to paint the bigger picture of the menagerie of intricate delicacy, propriety and grace that this was in its prime.

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