6 September 85
Dear Lord,
I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I see and feel such
pain sometimes in those around me. And I know I’m the
cause of it. I’m trying to imagine things from their
side, to understand the cause of their pain, but I can’t
except in brief flashes that are as much feeling as
anything. What I do, how I live, seems natural to me. I
have no idea if it’s right, though. Guide me, Lord. Open
my eyes to the relief for their pain if such exists. Is
it my own negation; that I should do what doesn’t come
naturally to me for the sake of their relief? I don’t
feel this in my heart, but I will listen.
Your world is colder as I grow older, Lord. The
spaces, the terrors, the aloneness that wait for me when I
feel myself without love grow stronger as I age. My
insensitivity to love is eroded by my increasing
nakedness to its need as I advance in years. I feel masks
of virility, and future promise falling off. I grow
weathered by living and my experience destroys my younger
dreams. Like a knife, now, you drive this life at me and
make it harder and harder to keep looking.
But I see something here, Lord. A principle you’ve
built into this world for us. Love. Pure and simple.
Love and acceptance of your will if it be for aging or
death. And love for giving to others. If I would open my
eyes a bit more the opportunities surround me for love.
Rose, hurting so as she feels Lise in my life. Can I not
love her, cherish her, reassure her? It has not changed
even if she thinks it has, somehow. And if this bond with
her is for life then I should give her ever greater
pleasure if I can. And Lise, Lise who has captured me so.
Giving her enough love….
I grow confused by my own words. I love two women.
Each in a very different way. And I’m giving both pain
because of it. And I want to hurt neither. To give up
neither. To love both. To make both happy. I want to
find joy in the midst of such riches, not pain. Lord, is
it impossible in this world to love two women?
Rose’s pain is weighing on me like a load of bricks
and last night I dreamt of Gerda in Vancouver while I
slept with Lise. And I woke sad for Gerda and depressed
for the pain I;ve given her. And Lise’s moods are
swinging so hard. And what of Kathy. She knows I’m pain
in a man’s body and gives me lots of space for her own
survival. What am I doing here in the middle of all this?
I love something about each of them and at times I make
each happy but I feel tonight only their pain.
Lord, I’m trapped in Maya aren’t I? And these
attractions, these pains, these involvements are my
immersion in this physical reality. If I had the courage,
if I had the courage, what would I do? The pure ideals
hang before me. Love given cares not if the giver
receives. Compassion cares not for its own wants. Joy
exists in each moment; perfect in itself. Like some
corrupt monk fumbling his beads I say these things. I am
so lost.
These things I care about only bring me pain.
If left Rose for Lise my heart would break for Rose
and I would die from Chris’ loss. I would come to regret
their loss as my love for Lise wore down to familiarity
and I would always look at Lise and wonder if the price
was worth it.
And if I lost Lise I would lose something I never
thought I’d find. All the women I’ve known and none like
her. Without her the future would die somehow. Never
another woman who could surprise me with such love and
feeling.
In the midst of your garden I twist, lord, and I
cannot see so blinded am I by what I love. I am confused
Lord.
So much confuses me. Help me, please, to help myself.
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —