Love, part one

The Trouble with Love

Monday, 6-6-22

The trouble started with Henry.

I was seventeen. Several people I loved most had let me down; two of them, my dad and my best friend, by dying, and my mom by getting desperately ill and spending months in a hospital.

One Friday evening, Henry was supposed to show up at my house so we could go shoot pool. I sat in my car waiting for about an hour. Then, because I was by nature an emotional and petulant fellow who had learned young to repress his feelings, I over-reacted. I might have wept if I hadn't already lost the ability to do so.

Instead, I vowed not to ever care so much about anybody that their letting me down would hurt deeply.

For a dozen years, I kept that vow, until the birth of my daughter Darcy.

Some years passed and then I found myself divorced, alone and hundreds of miles from the two kids I loved desperately. All day long, my stomach felt as if I had been gobbling large portions of lead. At nights, if I managed to fall asleep, I would awake in about two hours with no chance of sleeping again. Pills didn’t work. I lost about thirty pounds.

A letter came from Charlie Morgan, a  friend from when we studied in Iowa, who was now preparing to become a psychologist. The letter expressed his excitement about a  book he’d discovered. The Road Less Travelled, by M. Scott Peck. I scanned the letter and returned to the darkness.

Several weeks later, I went to a bookstore for no other purpose than to find something on the topic of relaxation as a sleep aid. While browsing, I happened upon a title that linked psychological health with spiritual growth. I bought it and began reading some of it every day. A few days in, one of the book’s themes cured me. 

The theme was: anyone seeking emotional or spiritual health must face the absolute truth, no matter how bitter, brutal, dangerous, or threatening to the ego. 

That prescription worked like magic. It gave me hope, which is the antidote to despair. The weight in my stomach floated away. Beginning that very night, I slept. Every day, I spent some minutes reviewing my past and present with a keener, bolder, more objective eye.

Among my discoveries was that, especially as a divorced father, I needed to learn the art of love. I had learned from Mr. Peck that love isn't nearly so much about what we feel as about how we act. But that was theory. I still needed to learn how to make giving love a practice, maybe even a habit.

Since I hadn’t yet responded to Charlie’s letter, I reread it and found that the book he recommended was the very same book that had turned me around. Coincidence or providence, I still wonder.

Anyway, as it appears that the dominant theme of our current world is hatred and I believe the only medicine for hatred is love, I will recommend the book Charlie praised and a couple other resources for those who could use help with the art of loving.

The briefest and probably most valuable resource I can recommed is a simple prayer: "Lord, help me to love better." If you know folks dismayed by or inclined toward hatred, you might try suggesting that prayer.

Some longer resources are: The Road Less Travelled, by M. Scott Peck: The Art of Loving, by Eric Fromm; The Four Loves, by C.S. Lewis, and Provocations, by Soren Kierkegaard.

And, with thanks to John the apostle, here's a cool song.

Coming next week, more about love.

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