love.
date. 2020
city. new york city
week five.
I finally got around to reading Plato’s dialogue on love, Symposium. I forgot just how funny he is! He begins with a discussion of whether they should get drunk that night. I kid you not.
week six.
I’ve always been interested in nudity. I’m personally rather self-conscious about my body, but I’ve had an inkling that there's something unhealthy about my shame.
week seven.
It goes without saying that love can make any life worth living. But there’s a darker side to love. A side of love that is perhaps more intimately related to death than we’d like to believe.
week eight.
I dropped acid last weekend. It’s really hard to talk about (it feels way too personal to think about, let alone write about), but I think it’s important to try.
week nine.
My sister needed a vacation but didn’t know what to do with her kids. I’ve been focusing on family a lot lately, so, much to her surprise, I quickly offered to take care of them for a couple days.
week ten.
I’m undergoing this process of transitioning from appreciating my friends for the ways in which we’re similar, to appreciating them for who they are in themselves.
week eleven.
I went with my roommate to pick up some books from the Strand and took advantage of the walk to discuss something that's been cropping up lately: the irrationality of community.
week twelve.
To be honest, I haven’t been feeling all that loving lately. But here are some fragmented thoughts on the economy of dating apps, the illusiveness of chemistry, and some good old Freud.
week thirteen.
My friend, Jo, is one of the most loving people I know, and has functioned as a kind of model for me during this 'experiment'. So I was overjoyed when she agreed to let me pick her brain.
week fourteen.
So many things happened to me (for me? with me? within me?) over the past few days. My roommate was out of town Saturday so I finally had some (physical and mental) space to myself.
week fifteen.
The monk, lounging gracefully atop his misty mountain, gazes peacefully out across a restless earth. He disentangles himself from the struggles, torments, and confusions of ordinary life.
week sixteen.
Orthodox Jewish men and women who are not married to each other are not allowed to touch in an affectionate way. This is called being Shomer Negiah [literally: watching/protecting your touch].
week seventeen.
Every year before ‘parents teacher night’, my elementary school teacher would tell the class that the greatest gift a child can give their parents is the gift of nachas.
week eighteen.
My love is irrational. I can never explain it to others, and there is no chance that they will learn to love it too. Rather than an exchange, my love is presented freely, as a gift.
week ninteen.
Last weekend, I escaped the city with a couple of friends for the nature and calm of Woodstock. It was to be a self-imposed mindfulness retreat.
It went something like this.
week twenty.
The question must be posed: Is it possible to embrace a friend without distancing an enemy? Is it possible to make love, without establishing a foundation for hatred?
week twenty one.
I’ve started teaching myself how to play piano. I still can’t play for shit, but sometimes I’ll linger over individual notes, letting them hang in the air far too long, savoring the beautiful sounds.
week twenty two.
What's the relationship between love and intimacy?
At first glance, it seems obvious. What could be more related that love and intimacy. They'll like two peas in a pod; almost identical.
week twenty three.
I finished reading the Dalai Lama’s autobiography last night. I actually ended up spending the whole day reading it. Can the Lama be separated from his people? How do leaders relate to their people?
week twenty four.
I spent the week reading a collection of Gandhi’s writings. I had been led to believe that Gandhi was some kind of great lover. Cuz, you know, the whole non-violence thing.
week twenty seven.
A conversation with my friend and teacher, Lara, on the intersection of love, health, nature, devotion, and the subtle surprises of small steps.
