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Wednesday, October 19, 2011

In love with love

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Lesley planting our garden 2 1/2 years ago

There is the delusion of falling in love with love. My unborn grandson is a fragile being (and also powerful), and within minutes of his birth (maybe even mere seconds), his foibles will begin to appear, and my own will keep unwrapping, in our miraculous humanness. Something of love’s litany of pleasures remains in the heart, so that we seek another new love. We might reap more joy than sorrow, once again, this time. And when the new love is imperfect, meaning that we, or they, are disappointed, we come to the next fork in the road, able to choose: I will love you even if you do not want me in the way I envision. I will love you even when you are so different than the boy of my dreams. Is a dream a fallacy? Reality’s moment hoped into fairy kingdoms? O blessed are the realities that exceed our dreams. But set my heart in the fertile ground that includes poo in the compost. Rotting matter is what feeds the next fruit of abundance.
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30 comments:

Maureen said...

Beautifully written, Ruth.

Grandmother said...

My goddaughter has a son who is on the autism spectrum. Loving him just the way he is, getting to know Him rather than an ideal of him grounds me and surprises me with the charm of his other than usual quirky self.

Andressa C. said...

Absolutely beautiful.

The Solitary Walker said...

The hopes and ideals, the disillusion and reality of love. Yes indeed, the realities - fertilized by the soil of the earth, leavened by human frailties - do exceed our dreams.

Kanelstrand said...

Ah, hope is the thing with the feathers, isn't it? We so often fall in love for all the wrong reasons that I am sure that we simply do fall in love with love. And yes, all the hopes and dreams that we invest in any type of falling in love are quite a driving force!

Loring Wirbel said...

This is beautiful.

Deborah said...

I don't believe, somehow, that he will be any different than what you think you imagine. Such a lucky child, to be so eagerly and lovingly awaited.

erin said...

we are always catching up to our hopes and visions. they lead us. we are only spectators, wishers, hopers, tails upon the wag of this new life.

i love the image, ruth, so fresh and new, both the plant and your daughter, and too, the soil, the day.

what will life look like? we can never know, and with that every hope and quiver.

xo
erin

Margaret said...

This is so wonderful and lifts my heart with such joy for you! I see the title of the poem in the post below and can't wait to read it... You are an amazing photographer and writer.

I will have to come back after this weekend (and shouldn't be on the blog now) as my in-laws are coming to visit and I have so much to do. I'm hoping the two away at school can come home to visit... I haven't had the whole family here together like this in a long time... kind of like an early Thanksgiving!

I'll be back!

Ruth said...

Thanks, Maureen. When I reread these last couple of posts, I get a bit lost. Like I was in a meditative state when I wrote them. :|

Ruth said...

Mary, that is perfect. He is perfect. Thank you.

Ruth said...

Thank you, Andressa C.!

Ruth said...

Robert, the problem is my expectations, which are always about me. If I let them go, I'm inevitably surprised and gladdened by reality. Thanks.

Ruth said...

Sonya, Miss Emily knew the ironies of life, and how impossible it is not to fly with hope. I think I think too much. :-) But I gotta do something while I wait for this baby to come out.

:D

Ruth said...

Loring, thank you, my curmudgeonly friend. And thank you for keeping on, in spite of a whole lotta poo that needs cleaning up.

Ruth said...

Deborah, maybe you're right. I find myself getting a little obsessive with circles of thought during this time of gestation. :-) Let me get my hands on him, I say! (Relax, Ruth, there is a time for everything.)

Ruth said...

erin, this whole thing is fresh. There is nothing like being this aware, in my mid-50s, with the prospect of a new life.

I think that as confinements like shoulds and expectations slip away, awareness can blossom. Hope and quiver, yes.

Thank you.

Ruth said...

Thanks a bunch, Margaret, for stopping by when you should be elsewhere. ;)

I hope your time with family (fingers crossed that the two away ones get home) will be full of surprises of the best variety: discovery and abundance!

Catfish Tales said...

Congrats! What a precious time for you. I've been enjoying my albeit step-granddaughter immensely. She's 1.5 years old now and pure joy. The other days she entertained me with her own version of 'Itsy bitsy spider'. Priceless

Nelson said...

Ruth,

Re: meditative states

I'm glad you acknowledged, "I get a bit lost." I felt your emotion but couldn't get a handle on what you felt. Your comments help describe the eddies inside of you. I imagine that it is hard to reflect clearly when you find yourself swirling.

Bon voyage.

missing moments said...

So true, isn't it! We have dreams of what they will be and become. But no matter, our love will be limitless!

Patricia said...

Ruth, I needed the italicised words as a firm reminder as I struggle to find a relationship with my own 20-something son!

Best to you and the grandchild to be!

Oliag said...

When it comes to grandchildren I have found that there are no imperfections:) none that I see anyways!

Barb said...

Your Gramma instincts are already finely honed, Ruth. To expect is sometimes to court disappointment. Maybe to anticipate is better - like knowing a mystery is about to be revealed and not having any idea what will emerge. Hard though, not to wish for certain things...it's such a hopeful thing to plant a seed.

amy@ Souldipper said...

Love all the feelings, Ruth! Love them this minute. They will unfold with each new moment, but don't rob yourself of any of them in this one.

Please excuse my joy for you, having read this post. Please allow me to say: He is going to be who he is in spite of all sorts of expectations of many in the world. That is his cocoon. You are his cocoon, Grandma. It's in that place he will strengthen his wings.

freefalling said...

I followed a link back to a post you wrote about Inge 12 months ago and I saw the comment I made.

"When I visit some blogs I skim through them.
I can't do that with yours.
It speaks to a deeper me.
I have to quiet my mind before I come and I have to have time to sit and absorb.
Sometimes that's a pain in the posterior!
But it's always rewarding."


yeah.
12 months on.
Same.

Lilith said...

I think the greatest gift we have to give us others is our love and acceptance of them, as they are, poo and all:)

Sandy said...

can't wait to hear news of the little one's arrival and see photos...how fun for you all to have this to look forward to.

Jeanie said...

Oh, Ruth, yes. I so know what you mean. The realities that exceed our dreams are indeed the loveliest, but spirit, thank goodness, allows us to readjust if need be. May your realities exceed your dreams!

Ginnie said...

Your little grandson is so lucky, Ruth, because he'll recognize you the minute he sees you...and will set your fluttering heart at ease. He will grab your hand and lead you!