Recharge: Love and Definitions

I always thought I knew the difference between the concept of understanding something and concept of feeling something. Wait, maybe that's not right. Is to "understand" to "know"? Is it appreciation? Acceptance? Intuitive reasoning with a propensity for irrational action? How can I say I know the difference between any set number of things without truly understanding the complexities of the subjects involved? For instance, I know what it is to love, and what it is to hate. I know how they feel, how the blood tastes in the back of my throat, or how it feels when I try and remember that last elusive sigh of pleasure.

Yet to a person who knows nothing of love or hate, what then do these feelings mean to them? We attach such words and complications to what we say and do, yet they are merely symbols representative of something else. The word "love" is not love itself, but rather a social signifier letting ourselves and those around us know what we are feeling and how we want to communicate that feeling. So while a word can be easily defined, I believe that what it represents cannot be so easily labeled. Nor should it be. 

So how do we distinguish between love and hate? Truth and falsity? We depend so heavily on the definition of the word to encapsulate all of the things it could possibly represent, that it becomes easy to lose yourself in trying to simply define a feeling. The solution, funnily enough, it all boils down to faith, and not the ten hail Mary's and a side of biblical fury kind, but a faith in each other. A mutual understanding beyond the limitations of definitions. 

When I say "I love you", I'm trusting that when you say it back, we are alluding to the same thing. That's because there are so many different kinds of love, and to quote some famous piece of work, find 1000 people, you'll find a 1001 different ways to love, because hell if the person doing the counting doesn't count too. There's love for friends, enemies, car salesmen, politicians, and families. Every time they say "I love you", it means something different, and the same goes for the ones saying it back to them. 

And I've realized that when you say "I love you" to me, I'll never truly know exactly how you feel. Sure, I'll get the general idea, but I won't insult you by saying your deepest inner workings are so easily summed up by anyone but yourself.  Based on habit, I can get pretty good at understanding your intentions, but I'm not naive enough to think that I can in any way define your unique feelings. 

So I guess that's why trust is such an important thing in love. With hate, it doesn't matter if you hate me. Hate is personal, it's publicly private, and completely sustainable on its own. I can hate the world, but I don't need it to hate me back. Love, on the other hand, needs to be loved in return.

So when I say those three words, I believe that for a moment, our faith coincides. They line up for a brief moment and shine brightly in an abyss of uncertainty. You've become a light in my darkness, a beacon reminding me that reaching a hand out into the black needn't be so scary, so long as you know that someone is there to hold you up. So sure, I'll never know what love really is.

But that doesn't really matter, so long as you believe in it with me.

Recharge: Leveling up your health

Not one for holding myself to any sort of structured fitness regimen, I find it amusing that so much of my work experience stemmed from a job at a fitness center developing and running games and activities for teenagers. Hell, I also guided tours in a kayak on the Hudson River. And as such, it became mostly rote for me to keep active and engaged throughout any given day, with a sprinkling of extra exercise here and there.

But as I've moved to a more sedentary work environment, it's become more and more difficult to get myself motivated to exercise. Which is why I'm thankful for bike shares in Manhattan, and the opportunity to take a boxing class once a week. However, it's all of the other time that I have (or lack thereof) that's the problem. 

As a lot of you can sympathize with, there's that single moment when you come back from work and sit down on your bed or your sofa, that all strength and motivation leaves your body in a puff of futility. It's almost agonizing to get up and do something, even though the dishes are dirty and the laundry is piling up. 

So you sit there, collecting dust while you stress out about all the things that you have to do. And I do the same thing, as I imagine what it's like to actually get a good work out in.

And then I put on a Dragon Ball Z movie. 

And I have to say, it was a very good choice. It brought me back to the late 90's when I ran around the playground pretending to be Goku, throwing ki blasts and yelling. (I got more than my fair share of weird looks.) At the time, the show represented a far off goal, one where if I imagined hard enough, I could eventually reach it. Obviously, what is possible in DBZ isn't possible in real life. But imagining what it would be like to experience it was able to spark something inside of me. Every time I ever participated in anything athletic, I superimposed an image of Goku unto myself, creating a super powered alter ego. 

As I thought about that, I realized that what I had done was give myself an incentive. I remained active because somewhere in my head I knew that if I could never be like Goku, I could at least slowly work my way up to something better than I was. I wanted to feel like I could become a warrior, a hero, again. And that gave way to reigniting a desire to get in shape.

And so I've decided to try and keep this trend going. I did some pushups, some weights, some shadow boxing, and I plan to keep better track of what I do, so that I can turn each little achievement that I make into the next stepping stone for my personal growth. I want to channel that desire to improve, that need to advance to the next level because it's there. Funny, it reminded me of Pokemon when I would fervently pursue the next evolutionary stage with a reckless abandon. And it made me realize why there were so many transformations in DBZ: it was because we have a distinct desire to move ourselves up the ladder in any way possible. Horizontal movement doesn't cut it, I want to feel as if I'm progressing. I want to become stronger, and push past my current limits, but in order to do that, I'm going to need discipline. And a lot of experience points. But that fills me with a giddy anticipation. 

And maybe with a little effort, that feeling won't go away anytime soon.

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Recharge: Creatively common? Commonly Creative?

Hello again, this Recharge is a little late today, but I'd rather have something up than nothing at all. After all, this is an exercise in consistency as well as creativity.

Today I wanted to talk a little about the creative process. What is the most useful to a sustainable writing style? Is it a constant whacking away at an anvil of short stories and poems, or should you wait for a (hopefully) inevitable wellspring of information? I think the only ones who can answer that are the ones that have gone through either option, and even then, that's only proof that it worked for them. 

I suppose there's no magic spell for good writing, but there is at least value in persistence. Honestly, it's one of the things I've been pretty bad at, but I hope to change that, bit by bit, until I sift through all the mediocre writing until I get to a gold nugget or two. 

I've realized that I've been doing too much waiting, and as a result I've seen too much pass me by, and it's left a bitter aftertaste. But thankfully, that's not too hard to change.

So, let's see, today's excerpt will be something Final Fantasy IV related. 

I am not clad in darkness, but merely captured by darkness's shadow. My skies have been clouded by a malicious storm, and I can no longer claim the blue skies as my sanctuary.

I have a committed a grievous sin, for the love I bear for my white mage comes at the cost of the bond I share with my dearest friend. An even greater sin weighs upon my heart as I realize that I would renounce that same friend for naught else but the power to win my mage's heart. 

And then my friend forgave my sins, and my wings were clipped. I saw the pity in that white mage's eyes that tore what little honor I had from my soul, and I became a husk: a mannequin of azure armor.

My hatred may boil, and my dreams may shatter, but I realize that my malice is but a part of the weight of humanity's sins. And with what little honor I have left, I will fight. Mankind's malice may never fade, but I will shatter bone and tear flesh to make sure that mankind does not meet an early grave. 

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