The Weak Man

"You see, because people like you, the good people, always die, and the bad people die too.  But the weak people, people like me, we have inherited the earth." -- Morgan to Rick, The Walking Dead.

The weak man.

The weak man is not the man who cried at night in the silence of his lonely apartment. He is not who asked your help to feed him because he doesn't have enough.  He isn't even the one who asked for directions. The weak man isn't the one who talked about his emotions, or who was disturbed when he saw a homeless kid on the side of the street.

The weak man is the one who chose to walk out. The weak man is the one who never stood up for anything, who never fought for anything he believed in. The weak man is the one who never allowed himself to love.  He is the one who never said No. He laughed with everyone and cried with none. He didn't do the right thing at the right time. He is the one who has dedicated his life to collecting wealth and wealth alone. He lives a long, comfortable and lonely life.  The weak man is the one who couldn't believe in anything bigger than him, anything beyond him because he chose to live within the four corners of his box.

Yes, the weak man, he will inherit the earth, while the good and the bad people actually fight for something. I'd rather die kicking and screaming than inherit this earth. 

You and Her.

I'd like to know how this story ends. So, why don't you tell me what happens next. Tell it to me like it is.

Does she smile when she sees you? Do you smile back at her? Does she tell you stories? Do you listen to her as if the whole world has stopped?

Does she call you late at night and wake you up? Do you sing her a lullaby? Does she make you dinner?  What about disagreements? Does she fight with you? Does she pretend to resist your kisses? Do you rub her leg while sitting on the couch? Does she sleep on your shoulder or does she share your pillow? Does she grab you by the tie and pull you closer? Does she like to wrestle you? Do you ever play hide and seek anymore? Does she ask you for poetry? Do you whisper those poems to her late at night? Does she get mad when she doesn't hear the poetry of her choice? Do you make up to her then? Does she sit on your lap in the evenings? Is she ticklish like I am? Do you have lots of laughs together?

Tell me love, do you reach out and hold her hand across the table in the restaurant? Does she pretend to not like it when you ask her to make you tea?

Tell me darling, do you sing to her late at nights?

And what about you? Tell me about yourself. What excuses do you make now when you are late? What reasons do you give her for forgetting her birthday? Do you call her back when she calls you? Do you reply to her emails? Do you ever write to her? Do you teach her lessons at the cost of her heart? Do you hurt her too?

And what about her? Does she write? Does she write like I do? Does she write for you? Is she feisty? Feisty like I was. Feisty as you like it?

Tell me darling and tell me all, does she love you?

Do you love her??

Back To The Start.

It's summer time. We are in a Whole Foods. He is trying to find the fruit tart we want to take to the dinner party tonight. I am following him aisle after aisle looking for it. I know exactly where to go to get it but I am letting him search for it himself. It gives me a little more time to love him quietly while he is distracted.

We are in a Bed and Bath. We are picking out new curtains for the apartment. He is browsing through the samples, and whenever something catches his eye, he picks it up and looks at me for approval. I love him a little more for just that. 

I am sitting on the beach wearing my over-sized summer hat, and pretending to read Sarte, but I am really just looking at him playing with some random kids in the water. I am really just loving him, quietly.

It's autumn now and we are sitting on our porch. I’m loving him more. I concentrate on the things I like about him. Like, perhaps his eyes. His eyes are stunning. Or the fact that my best friend once told me that he has the kind of beauty that creeps up on someone. It’s true. Sometimes I don't realize how gorgeous he is until the light hits his face or he closes his eyes and then it all comes together for me. I realize just how perfect he is.

I am meeting him for the very first time. We are at a party and I’m already trying to love him more. I’m imagining what our relationship would like—a dog, long walks, dinner parties, a solitary tear running down my cheek set to Million Dollar Baby or some other tragic movie—and I already love it. It’s like someone pitched me the idea of our relationship and I said yes without reading the fine print. It’s embarrassing because I don’t even know who he is. I kiss him that night to see if I could know him and I did.

Sometimes you just know. You don't need to spend years or even moments to figure it all out. You take a leap of faith. You say yes, and somehow the fine print just works out in your favor.

Gatsby, What Gatsby?

Most of us read this book growing up. The rest of us has seen the movie. [If you haven't, please go read it, then watch it.]  A few of us are swaying to its soundtrack. I did all of these.

The beauty of the character Jay Gatsby is that he can be interpreted in so many ways. Yet, most of us choose to marvel at the intensity of Gatsby's love for Daisy. He dedicated his whole life, his whole existence to the quest of finding her love - to attaining her. He knew on some level that she did not love him, but he did not want to believe it. If only she would leave her husband, if only they could go back to the past, everything would be just okay. He would be happy again. He would be with Daisy.

We like to live in the past.  If only we could change a few details from our past, we could fix everything. We could be happy again.  But the sad truth is, you can't be happy by yearning for the past because you are yearning for something that does not exist. It's foolishness. It becomes an obsession. Gatsby was border-lined obsessed with the idea of being with Daisy.  He turned his whole life into such a perfect fraud that he even fooled himself. He forgot about love. He forgot about his real  life, or what he could have gotten out of it for the sake of attaining an idea from the past that ceased to exist. Perhaps it never even did then. If it did, Daisy would have waited for him when she could.

I cannot possibly have respect for anyone like that. No obsessed man ever loved. No obsessed man ever attained his obsession and was happy, and I think that is precisely what Fitzgerald wanted to convey through Gatsby. He wants us to remember the fine line between love and obsession, and the consequences of crossing over.  The "Great" in The Great Gatsby is so ironic.

I want to think of him as a great person, but the more I think about it, the more I can't. He is not great. Fitzgerald's character is great, the way it is written. But if Jay Gatsby was a person, he would not be great.

In a world which is increasingly becoming lonely and miserable, we don't need more Gatsbys. Please don't be a Gatsby. There is no nobility in obsessing over something that does not exist. Desire leaves us heartbroken, it wears us out. Desires can wreck your life.  You deserve to be happy. You deserve a better life than Gatsby's.

The Wonder

Have you ever seen the sea in the sky? Have you ever seen a void in that sea? Have you seen a world in that void? Have you ever noticed the light above it all? Have you every wondered about God.