Mark asked if I believe in Fate. Well, he didn’t really ask me, he asked his readers. Of which I am one. And though I always read and often comment, I could not comment that day. I have had trouble commenting for days now.
“Do you believe in Fate, or in Free Will,” he asks, as if it must be one or the other.
Yes. Both. No, I don’t know how they fit together. But I do believe there’s a plan, and yet I do believe I play a role in it. I believe that things in my life are as they should be – even as they must be – regardless of whether those specific things are exactly as I might prefer to arrange them.
I doubt that answer actually answers the question. No worries, though, because that isn’t really even the point of his post…
He also described a dream that has led him to a new relationship, and asked if we had ever had similar experiences.
I have dreamed true twice, that I know of. In both cases, I dreamed exactly of settings and situations and people – places I had never been and people that I had never met at the time I dreamed them – such that when the events came to pass I knew them without any question. And yet… in both cases how I interpreted what was happening in the dream, and what its underlying meaning was, could not possibly have been any more wrong.
I also dream true in another sense, in that on more than one occasion I have dreamed strange dreams that, when I looked hard at the details, revealed a symbolic truth that helped me better understand a situation that in my waking life, I could not see.
To sum up, yes Mark. I have had dreams in which what I see is true, but what I understand is not. And I have had dreams where what I understand is True, but what I see is the mishmash of dream imagery. But more on task, I’ve yet to have a dream tell me who I should be with, romantically. I’m not sure I would trust it if I did.
As you can see, it is not because I had nothing to say that I didn’t comment on his blog that day.
It’s not even because I had too much to day, and it could be rude to commandeer his comments.
I can’t comment on anything Mark says lately because underlying it all, Mark has been sharing the fact that he is in love. Mark is newly, delightedly in love and I don’t know what to do with that.
Wow, that sounds sort of bad. Like maybe I’m jealous. Mean-spirited. Anti-love.
None of which are true.
Jaded and broken, however? Maybe.
I don’t know what to do with that because – even though it is patently untrue and unfair – the default position in my head is to believe that men don’t have feelings. Not real feelings, anyway. Of course that’s crap; I know it even as I think it. I don’t mean to sound anti-men. Men can have feelings. Many, many of them do. Perhaps even all – or at least most – of them do, or can. I’m surrounded by men – am related to men, in fact – who clearly do have feelings… husbands and fathers who very obviously love their wives, their children, their friends. Yes, yes, I know this. Still, despite ample evidence to the contrary, my mind can’t seem to hold on to that idea… tends to treat men-with-feelings as somehow exceptional… as if they are an aberration; an urban legend. And yet there is Mark, full of feelings. Expounding upon them. Declaring his in-love-ness.
It’s beautiful. It’s lovely. It’s surreal.
And I don’t know what to do with that either, because he is so obviously enjoying those moments of walking-on-air in-love-ness. I, on the other hand, so innately distrust that feeling, in the markedly rare occasions when I have experienced it, that even in the moment (while I am floating around on that happy cloud and can almost think of nothing else except the object of my affection), still I am driven to distraction with trying to reach the solid ground that almost certainly must be beneath me somewhere. I’m so aware of the ways in which I am not myself in that moment… “in love” is a drug, and I always feel a bit like I’ve had too much to drink and now need to sober up, quickly and by sheer force of will. While others are in love with love, I am busy trying to get over the in-love phase of things and move on to the less exciting and adventurous, more real and settled phase of simply loving.
It’s not that I’m not supportive. They are in love and it’s Wonderful. I wish amazingly good things for them both and I hope it will only grow and deepen with time.
I just don’t know what to do with it, because none of it fits inside my head.