On crushes

[ambitious_wench]

Crushes seem to be on my mind of late. I remember having crushes, that breathless feeling, the way your heart pounds, your hands sweat, and your mouth goes dry. It sucks. It's painful. They are called "crushes" for a reason. I felt crushed beneath the emotions I carried for another person.

I'm not comfortable saying that crushes are a symptom of immaturity. I've known full-grown adults who have developed crushes, folks I would otherwise call mature.

I think that crushes are more likely when you are young, when everything is still shiny, and emotions take on grandiose proportions. Everything is so profound when one is young, when love is a tidal wave or a fiery conflagration.

Now in my middle age, I've slowed down some. I no longer am crushed by the weight of attraction.

Now it's a matter of being drawn in, tugged along by the sound of a voice. I'll become fascinated, or perhaps find myself laughing at their jokes. Their words take on more importance. Their opinions matter. The sight of them lifts my step,

Crushes? Keep them. I don't want to be the cause of that much angst to anybody. Nor do I want to experience them.

I'd rather have that wonderful lightness of being when in the company of those who are dear, than feel the bands of iron around my lungs and heart.

Kahlil Gibran said it in "The Prophet":

And a youth said, "Speak to us of Friendship."
Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.
When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.
And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.

Comments

[madronn.livejournal.com]

That was wonderful, thank you for sharing it.

[shadow-5tails.livejournal.com]

*hugs you gently*

Well said.