When it comes to love, I’d consider myself a fanatic. I love with passion, desire, and most importantly, unconditional commitment and devotion to the person, place, or object I am currently in adoration with. However, when it comes to maintaining this effortless notion of everlasting being and igniting passion, I find myself carelessly blowing out the flame, in search of something other than the melted hot wax and candlestick underneath its blaze.
What I have come to find in this quest for unyielding eternity, is perhaps that maybe my ultimate challenge lies not within another individual, but rather a state of being. And in this case, quite literally.
After a recent trip to the city that never sleeps, I found myself delighted and awakened by the madness and chaos that faithfully penetrates the streets of New York City. At any given hour, during any given Sunday, amongst any nationally declared holiday, the city never stops living. There are beginners, and dreamers, and a whole lot of believers. There’s opportunity, and distraction, and sinful, fatal attraction. Aside from its physical, New York’s got its spiritual, comical, and philosophical. It’s dirty, furious, and demanding, but something about it, I can actually withstand it ( And to come to think of it, I haven’t felt this much infatuation and admiration since well, Mario Lopez came back for ABDC)
Don’t get me wrong all you hard core Bostonians, I’ve maintained much love and appreciation for winning championships and the ever-so – clean and lady-like streets of Boston. I was raised in a small town and turned to this city for guidance and direction. But after a few years of paying its dues, this once untamed and liberal city of nightlife and glamour turned out to be just another off-campus-after-hours-post-nightclub-party-scene. I quickly became bored and distracted by the lack of excitement and change I so naively pursued in the first place. After 3 years of admiring, appreciating, and continuously arguing over parking tickets, I became all too comfortable, and well… bored.
What I have learned after countless last calls and after-hour parties, is that perhaps not all long-term, live-in relationships are meant to last. Sometimes, we’re compelled into love by chance, or circumstances, or that feeling of utter acceptance by another individual. Sometimes we settle, endure, and finally accept the things around us for what they are, rather than what we want them to be. We become so comfortable and dependent on that basic love, that we somehow fool ourselves into thinking we are happy, and content with the world around us. We refuse to take chances, and break out of that comfort zone because somehow the unknown, is considered way out of our reach. We consider having love, as being in love, which can hinder our movement forward, into other unknown territories, and in this case, states.
So here’s my advice. Take chances, make mistakes, and always trust your instincts. Don’t be afraid to explore. We may not have always have direction, but if we somehow manage to remember where home is, we’ll never be lost.
(love ya’ ma.)
