Some people are not old enough to love, and you have to grant them a lifetime of experience before they realize that there is nothing new under the sun, or moon, and that love resides not in the object of one’s affections, but comes instead to those who stop to apply it. All else, all the choosing and experiences and new faces are nothing but the treadmill running through your mind, each step bringing you closer to nothing at all. You must stop and choose to recognize love, which rests not behind a face, but inside your heart.
This was the preaching that his father gave him from the time he could first understand spoken word. He knew this to be true, for he had received the gift of wisdom early on. One night while resting underneath a heavy blanket, a presence appeared in his room and asked him what he wanted. He knew it was God, or what was thought to be God, or some emissary of God. It could have been Zeus or some powerful being from afar, but he could feel the love, and called it God. Having heard the question, he thought back over all his father had shared with him over his many years, numbering no more than twelve, but a lifetime in his mind. His father told him of the great one named Solomon, that king of the Jews, and how he was the wisest ever. “Ever father?” he had asked, somewhat incredulous. A lot of people had come and gone in the interrum. This he knew. Not a one of them was as wise as that storied king?
So when asked the question by this godlike being what he wanted, he opted for a choice that was not readily sensible to him a short day later. Indeed, by the next afternoon, he had wanted something more substantial, like thinness, maybe money, or a naked woman (for he of late had become accustomed to the idea that women declothed were something to be had, though he could not quite put his finger on it). Why didn’t he, at least, ask for something like an unlimited supply of electronic toys, which he could share with his friends, rendering him instantly popular for the rest of his days, or until toys no longer held an attraction. Instead, and in the odd light of God, he asked for wisdom above all.
Life continued on. He grew older. Along the way he went from being a husky little boy to a well rounded man. All the while, and on the way, he searched for love amongst those around him, but it was never quite right. There were girls, and then women, who made his heart soar, and who dazzled him with their loveliness, but they always had someone else crowding the entrance to their hearts. There were a few here and there who wanted him, but those were always the ones that did not move him. Perhaps they were uglier than he hoped, having maybe one asset that might attract, but overall a disappointing package. And he would not eat a fig in exchange for an orange, or be lead to any pond just to quench his thirst.
He could remember two occasions where the women he wanted showed some interest, once when he was 13 and once again at 19. After that, it was disappointment. In those two instances, he lacked either time or courage, disbelieving that they might even really care for him. Once discovering that there was something there, it was too late. Further, that was mere youth; school days and summer flings never amount to more than memory anyway. All through his teens he told himself that things would change in his twenties. In his twenties he told himself that things would change in his thirties. He knew this, because his wisdom told him that man tended not to be alone. His eyes told the story even.
Everywhere he looked he saw couples: beautiful men and women together, fat men with skinny women, round bulbous women with bony men, the ugly with the lovely, the charming with the foul. Everywhere, there was love, or rather, the appearance of what was commonly taken for love: two people together. His wisdom also told him that in most cases none of this was love. All too soon the couples might split, or shift, or find their love had fled in the dark of night or light of day. In actuality that love was there, for love never flees, but they could not apply it because they mistook inclination and attraction for something deeper, leaving love sitting on the sidelines quietly. Love is there and usually you walk out the door.
He would comfort himself with the idea that those loves were not true. Every time he chatted up some woman only to find out she was attached, he told himself that it was a matter of moments before she was free again. Or, his wisdom told him that people were wanderers, and if you presented the right words or face, they could be swayed into a dalliance. He never tried this, to sway people away from their true loves, though he dabbled lightly, wondering if he had any such negative powers. He heard enough to know that his wisdom was true, and that people were not overly loyal to what they had, always seeking something better or looking to find something that would make them feel better. This was natural, as often enough people lost the energy of their initial attraction, and after that, the self that was made full before with compliments and lust and flowers and sex was left wanting.
Regardless, and without anything even pretending to be love, he was left wanting, and alone. He thought back to his meeting with God. Or god, for how could THE God make him such a raw deal, letting him choose wisdom, when in fact he so needed to be equipped with love. The idea of having love consumed him, manifesting itself in different ways. Sometimes he wanted to just die for someone, some woman. He would daydream of doing a noble deed, sweeping a woman out of danger at the expense of his own life, but with the knowledge that he left the world full of love. Other times it was not so pure a love, or love at all. He marveled at the beauty of women, each with a different shape, smell and look. Their voices rang smooth and soft, their laughs like mockingbirds, so light, so blue, so lovely. Everywhere were breasts that sat atop bodies like cinnamon buns, glazed and there to be eaten. It was the most ridiculous comparison, but one that he had made more than once. He imagined grabbing a breast, and gently squeezing, and placing it to his mouth, and…oh!!
His wisdom allowed him instantly to know what others were doing wrong, or why their relationships were failing, and women confided in him, and his heart often wanted to interpret that confidence as something more, but his wisdom sat guard saying, “They would share that with a stone should a stone have ears.” Too true. Women liked to be listened to and affirmed. Give a man a breast and a woman an ear and both are equally sustained.
Once he met a woman over the phone, and she eventually sent him a picture. She was beautiful. She likewise wanted a picture, and wanted to meet him in person, and was convinced he was going to be something special. He told her stories from his past, and how he was a ghost, like all the Caspers in the history of the world– the friendly ghost– and that women tended not to want him. She asked him why. Are you fat? He thought about this. It would be easy to say “Yes” and be done with it, but he did not feel that was quite the term, and he knew that was not the full reason for his woe. He knew he was too fat for those he loved, but at other times, this seemed to be on the edge of absurdity. “No, I am not really fat,” he said, which was either true or not, depending on one’s point of view on such things. If you loved him, it probably made no difference. But who loved him, or would take that action? “Send me your picture,” she said, not wanting to spend her life attracted to a ghost that she might not be attracted to. She was young, and he knew that was a long life of searching she had in front of her before she stopped and rested on love, and that love would not be applied to him. This he knew.
It was curious to him that he had the wisdom to know himself. I am arrogant. I am cynical. I am a chamelion. I am hardhearted but equally softhearted. I change. I forgive. I am full of lust. I am tired. I am lazy. I am a hypocrite. I am kind. I am loving and have never been loved.
He realized many years ago that having wisdom did not necessarily give you the strength to do anything about what you knew within. It was like being a physician without hands, and he was resigned to the fact that it would always be others with the hands on experience, while he stood against the wall like some holy ghost, giving guidance to those with more solid souls.
