Paraphrasing a song by the Italian singer-songwriter, Fabrizio De Andre` “Canzone dell’amor perduto “(Song of lost love.)
I would like to talk for the first time about the joys of love, rather than its tragedies, but unfortunately the experience convinced me that happiness does not belong to love, except as its fleeting expression and tenaciously opposed by reality.
If it were not so, probably, being in love would go unnoticed in our consciences like most of the events of daily routine. Because it will seem paradoxical but, man is given to truly enjoy only what has been long awaited.
I suppose that everyone aspires to tranquility and the quiet living of a successful love, of those without too many problems and without great storms, firmly anchored to an unshakable trust in mutual fidelity and so on. The fact is that to conquer such a situation we are also willing to fight, sometimes becoming violent and angry if not completely insane.
To love means to be irremediably compromised, once love becomes part of our life, we only wish that no one would think of upsetting us.
Unfortunately, however, legend has it that love arouses the envy of the gods and not just the gods. Suddenly secret admirers emerge, the betrayed and laconic abandoned.The neighbor hates us because he sees in us the image of fidelity, the one that he has never touched and we know that the neighbour’s grass is always better than ours, even our sister would like to change her husband, our mother does nothing but remind us how different it was in her time when love could not be chosen, not to mention what we then put on our own because although satisfied with luck, we would like to make it even more showy we expect from ourselves and from the people we care about, always excellent results, sometimes disproportionate to our and their strengths.
The children must be evident and educated, they must achieve excellent results in school, we must like our work, it must make us earn a lot of money, in short, we fight for a type of existence comparable to that depicted in television commercials where when a group appears familiar it seems that happiness is close at hand.
Certainly we are not the only ones to wake up every day gripped by problems rather than comforted by the joy and enthusiasm of our loved ones and it is understandable that we would like our affairs to go in quite another way but it does not seem that human existence is structured according to what it is, it is only a desire that is difficult to achieve.
Freud said that life is too hard to be taken as it is, so we need to think about it continually elsewhere and this is a common feature both to madness and to love. Imagine this daydream that collides with everyday life, that is, with those little annoying problems that are nothing in the face of the eternal happiness but which in fact deprive us of its comfort or in any case of its continuity. Even when we are well and feel full of joy and ready to conquer the whole world, we cannot help but wonder about the duration of this condition of well-being and how long we will be able to benefit from this idyll, as if love and its joys should be deserved and only the suffering that precedes them follows them, makes them so. To be loved means to be thought of and the awareness of this makes us invincible, protected by an unassailable armor with which to face the world head on, and this is precisely the source of happiness, a real source devoid of utopian idealizations and above all to the reach of all.
Encountering true love is not a certainty, there are people who spend their entire existence without knowing the meaning of the authentic feeling, this is because the possibility of coming across love always comes from our state of mind, or rather from internal predisposition. At a certain point in life, something can trigger that makes us attentive and selective with respect to the many messages coming from others, our mood and our psychological condition are such as to make us blind and deaf and therefore unable to pick up the signals sent by those who feel attracted to us. The internal disposition enjoys a power, an enormous privilege, is able to make us meet love, to recognize it, to live it, or on the contrary, able to let that train so important pass without stopping in our life. . It is evident that when one is not predisposed from an emotional and psychological point of view, it is almost impossible for an encounter to turn into love, perhaps it will give rise to a temporary relationship, vice versa what happens when being receptive the feeling crosses the gaze of a person who manages to strike us from the first moment, is something mysterious and wonderful, something that we should all experience at least once in our life, the authentic encounter with each other from the genus, I begin a pleasant phase of confusion in which the boundaries between the self and the other no longer exist but there is only an enveloping atmosphere of fusion. For this reason, lovers lose themselves in each other’s gaze and their bodies as well as their souls generate a new and fertile unity.
Love, the real one, the one that “tears your hair” and gives that precious desire that allows us to feel young and vital even when the passage of time would like to prevent it, is made above all of silence, is made of long, intense gazes, rich in meanings, which words would never be able to communicate. Being captured by the love dimension makes you become unsuitable to describe it, lovers know well what they feel, they are aware of being immersed in a magma of incandescent emotions, difficult to manage, however, despite this, bringing to light what they are experiencing, it can for them be very difficult, because when you are emotionally involved in a situation and you live it firsthand, you may find yourself lacking the most suitable interpretative tools to deal with it.
Love, like pain, not only invests the soul, it not only has a psychic existence but is written above all in our body which cannot and does not know how to lie. The price to pay is the time to renew and to reimagine oneself, to give voice to one’s own intimate nature, to that unexpressed talent that dwells within us, and this work is long and tiring but, this is not enough to make us give up on discovery of ourselves.