Every couple of years or so, we receive a comment on an article that is both stunning and numbing.  That sort of rendering comment reveals a new angle on an aging ideal that is both magnificently enlightening and intolerably human.  Twelve hours ago, we received one of those comments on an article — The Uncanny and Homesick Sexual Longing — originally published on November 12, 2007.


I remember that article was a trial to write because the subject matter was so deep and evergreen. Here is the comment cre003 posted last night:

I am so sick for love lost.. thank you for writing such a beautiful essay on an unusual topic. There is something awful about the late afternoon sunlight coming through the window, illuminating a few folds in the curtains…I know it is the same sunlight that I will see when I am very old, still thinking about him, where he is, if he will ever come back, if I will ever see him again, if he will suddenly appear in the window with a smile, with love in his eyes again. This same sunlight when I am very, very old and ready to die. He will be there but not there. It is impossible. The contradiction is intolerable. I will never see him again, never, never.

It is that sort of feedback that makes writing these blogs a worthwhile experience on every level. We are re-energized by indelible passion.

We are struck by cre003’s brokenness and her longing to be fixed and the terrible, ongoing, heartache that can never scar.

That sort of public, human, yearning cannot be ignored or abided — and
so all we can do in remedy is watch from afar, and weep with her — while
simultaneously feeling the familiar and resounding throb of pain trembling within us.

It is that very intimate sort of unseemly human expression that binds us all — and that is the beautiful conundrum of trying to live a right life while fighting the inhuman demons we may have created, but can never control — and we thank cre003 for that blinding reminder.

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