We must state this unequivocally. It is possible to love a thing too
much. One might wonder, though, why it is necessary to make this a
specific tenet within a philosophical framework. I felt it necessary
because of it's relationship to the notion of letting go.
It is certainly no big revelation to
posit this possibility. We see this realized all of the time in our
everyday lives. And it manifests itself in adoration of so many
different things. Love of self, love of another, love of any number
of different inanimate objects. When love is the force that brings
things together to create loving structure, how, or when, does it
become something that is too much? It occurs when it becomes
something that we cannot possibly let go, and in fact must increase
our hold of. When love becomes more than the gentle embrace and
tender touch; rending over to the fixed grasp of possession, we have
crossed a line into behavior that thwarts and hinders loving
structure.
The question then becomes, why is the
notion of letting go so important? The answer lies in the nature of
creation. Creation is destruction. This is an essential given in
the entirety. It may seem like a paradox but it really isn't. In as
much as loving structure creates new structure, the new has, in a
sense, destroyed the old. The old may still form a part of the new,
but it must necessarily be within an altered context. It's original
meaning has been lost.
One might then suggest that holding on
to anything is no good, but this too can be taken too far. As Love
and Mind are the two essential elements of the entirety, the need is
for there to be a balance between change and continuity. Not only do
emotional ties need some form of commitment, meaning needs time and
contemplation. In this context tradition is simply the process by
which we honor the things found from past experience that have had
value, as well as those who struggled to achieve that experience. To
say that a time will come when an old concept will no longer apply
does not necessarily imply it, and that those who sacrificed for that
realization, should stop being honored. It is simply to recognize
what Ecclesiastes stated so eloquently: "To every thing there is
a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." That
is why I will always maintain that the hope for this philosophical
framework is that it will provide sufficient value until a new and
better idea comes along. We must simply strive here, as with the
challenges in other tenets, to apply great care, humility and thought
to keeping the balance.
The notion of letting go, however,
still needs to be our primary focus in this discussion. Letting go
is a reality and a metaphor for so much that is important in
understanding the entirety. To be able to let go at the proper
moment is probably the hardest thing any individual can do.
Providing the means to understand the necessity for this is the goal
of this discussion.
I refer to it as both reality and
metaphor because it crosses over from the practical to the
metaphysical so broadly. We've all heard the most familiar aspect of
the reality in songs like "Love is a Rose." "Love is
a rose, but you better not pick it. It only grows when it's on the
vine. Handful of thorns and you know you missed it. Lose your love
when you say the word mine."
What's expressed in this lyric is the
delicacy with which something so precious should be kept close.
Implicit in this, though, is the idea that the recipient of our love
must be free to accept or decline. The degree to which this freedom
is withheld determines how much love becomes the prison of obsession
and possession for both sides. And even though this realization is
fairly well recognized, still there are many who struggle with it.
We can see a part of the metaphysical
aspect of letting go in a question that is the final test of a quest
I invented for a work of fiction ("The
Light of Creation," an e-book that I've
just finished). In the story, in order for the protagonist to become
a "Guardian of the Light," he must answer this question
(asked by the Crucible of Creation; where failure, of course, is not
something you want to contemplate very much). The question is: What
is the secret of the Mountain? Naturally, the secret is letting go.
And the point being expressed that, to attain the metaphorical
pinnacle of enlightenment, or achievement, or what ever significant
obstacle that is in you way, you must be willing to let go. In both
a literal, and a figurative sense, to scale this difficult
obstruction you must do the one thing that is most terrifying; risk
falling away from where you are now and coming up most abruptly upon
some catastrophic new understanding. Another way of looking at this
is that, only by letting go can you grasp a thing in a new and better
way (which means that inherent in "A man's reach must exceed his
grasp," is accepting the risk of not making the intended
connection). The really interesting thing here, though, is that it
is not only falling from a connection that will change you
dramatically, for how can the achievement of that connection not but
do something quite similar (just ask Faust).
The next question we must ask ourselves
is what lies at the bottom of the perceived danger of this risk?
And in this I think it is clear that the most important metaphysical
aspect of the change of a loss or gain of connection is how it
affects the self. Can this be otherwise when you consider that, in
so much of what motivates us lies the trinity of "Loss of Self,"
"Validation of Self," and "Transcendence of Self."
From the moment we are born, and our
brains begin the process of filtering the amazing welter of stimuli
that we are awash in, we establish self. The objectification of
language, and the experience association of moving through an
environment, where boundaries are quickly established not only
between exterior things, but between them and the one who perceives,
forms a singular reference point for meaning. Even more amazing,
this singular meaning assembler retains what has been associated and
forms a never ceasing dance of new interior connections between those
associations, and thus new elements of meaning. In all of this it
also becomes aware of being aware. It knows itself in some sense and
strives from that point on to understand a never ending blizzard of
why's and what's and where am I in all of it. And from that point on
there is an "I" and a "me."
The trinity of the self starts with the
instinctual need for self preservation of course, but goes quite a
bit deeper from there. What is it about getting a sense of "I"
and "me" that makes it so precious and wonderful. Even in
the most dire of circumstances we cling to it. And then we struggle
all through our lives to validate it. I sense. I feel. I have
discovered things that move me with great internal force, and yet
still I need to be reassured that I am real, and that I matter (what
an astounding unintended pun that is. That a thing, formed of loving
structure—which of course is matter, should worry so much about
whether they have affect or not). And if all of that weren't enough,
we have this need for transcendence hard wired into us. This need to
take awareness beyond the limits of rational cause and effect. This
need to know that which is beyond what the "me" meaning
assembler can provide in direct association.
All of this only serves to indicate
that a great deal could be written on each of these important
concepts. I'm going to keep it simple at this point because,
frankly, I haven't worked it all out yet (how can you have all of the
answers if you don't have anywhere near all of the questions,
right?). I do want to try and lay out enough of a guide, however,
for understanding why we find it so hard to let go in the natural
course of things. In this several questions must form the nexus of
what is to be grappled with. Is the fear of losing self (beyond
merely physical preservation) based on too much love or too little
(or perhaps either)? If we love ourselves (or some thing) too much,
or too little, what does that cause us to do to further validation?
If we are then so caught up in the material and/or grasping aspects
of validation, how do we ever even begin to approach Transcendence?
And without Transcendence how can we ever come to the realization
that there is so much more in what constitutes the first two concepts
than the material?
It may well be that there are no really
effective general answers to these questions. They must necessarily
be personal and answered only in the context of each individual life.
It will come as no surprise when I say that Loving Structure is a
key here. In the start of self it is key. In the ongoing process of
validation it is key. And in the freedom to pursue Transcendence it
is also key. I would urge everyone to do several things as they take
on these questions. Try to love and be loved without fear or
reservation. Let go of the balance book in regards of what is
received for that which is given. Let go of the clock in regards of
when it will end. Understand that love itself is one of the greatest
acts of faith we can ever engage in. Meditate both mindfully and
without mind. That is to say take quiet moments to both ask the
deeper questions of all of the emotions you feel, events you
experience and the desires that come upon you; but also take time to
turn off the inner dialogue and just be in the moment. Reach out in
that perfect moment without words and try to feel the entirety. And
in all of this try to work a balance between being and becoming; of
heart and mind, of attainment and journey. If we can become
confident in our validation, and successful in transcendence, there
will be no fear of the loss of self for we will come to see that
there is nothing really to lose, and everything to gain.
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