Valentines day. The day I knew…viscerally knew, my life was expendable. The day my son was born.. .and held my breath till he took his first. And knew. That in the order of things, he must outlive me. Acceptance of death.
I’ve been in love. More than once. The romantic confusion that turns Being-in-Lust, into something transcendent. But there is no transcendence. We grow old. We grow out of lust. And our lust itself–you might think, more trustworthy, coming out of the body, is itself confounded by that romantic movie we hoped to inhabit… so we miss even what it is our bodies hunger for, and cannot account for our multiple failures,
Cupid… you are the ultimate trickster. I can’t hate you for that… but only hope that I might become more like you.So may we all.
Jacob Russell's Magic Names 