There is something so nice about sitting at a desk (or lying in a bed) in the light of a small, warm lamp as the sky outside the window turns to dusk and the rest of the room has become so quiet and dark and still. It is a remarkably cozy and comforting and familiar feeling, and I wouldn’t want to give it up for anything.
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How does one go about integrating all the thoughts that are impressed upon the mind? It is a challenging feat, for this writer at least, and I can only offer a brief analogy to begin dealing with my opinions on the subject.
The comparison I am referring to is between the mental act of understanding and the physical work of digestion. Just as the body must consume some food, and break it down through a variety of processes, then absorb and assimilate the nutrients (this is the key part), or else it will fall ill and deteriorate—so too must the mind ingest some morsel of knowledge, dismantle it into smaller and more fundamental pieces, then integrate everything into the very anatomy of thought, lest the mind be overwhelmed with substance it cannot use. A chaos of ideas that slips through, in and out, without taking the time to be absorbed, to enter into the bloodstream of consciousness—this is the malabsorption of thought, which results in a feeling of lack, a feeling of hunger. The mind must digest ideas, as the body must digest food. The reason is that integration—which marks a shift from being fractured to being whole—is an essential ingredient of our vitality, and a necessary condition for our living as persons of integrity (from the Latin integer, “whole”). Without this ability, we walk around in a state of being various—a very disorienting habit of being, in which good things continually pass us by and even enter in, but their value is lost on us, and we keep feeling like hungry and unsatisfied creatures who just wish someone would come along and seal us up and stop the goodness from getting away.
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It doesn’t need to be said how uncomfortable it is when someone you care about doubts your love. Of course you care! How can a person, once he enters your heart, ever become someone for whom you feel nothing? But what can you do? You can’t always inspire a change of heart. You can’t always take on the work for yourself. You must just pray and hope that the person realizes the truth at the center of things and lets all the rest—which causes him so much unnecessary suffering—fall away.
Before resigning herself to hope and prayer, the author might consider why her love is in doubt in the first place. Perhaps she foments this doubt by actively distancing herself from the man in question. Perhaps it is apparent that she does so at no personal emotional cost. And perhaps she’s done little to ease his bemusement and grief, by way of explanation or reassurance.
For the past thirty years, no one has ever been attracted to me, so I will probably die alone and depressed. Still, the hope of marriage currently keeps me going, and I ask that you bear with me as I articulate my (deluded) vision of a happy marriage.
Recent events have reminded me of the importance of sleep. While it can be better to curl up next to someone during times of sadness, research suggests that people tend to sleep better alone. Moreover, as you pointed out above, a dark and still room can be remarkably cozy. Personally, I get most of my work done during those quiet hours.
So my wife and I would sleep in separate rooms during workdays, and sleep together during off-days (or during times of sadness, etc.). Not only would this help both of us feel more refreshed as we go about our respective work, but I also think it would help keep our marriage from slipping away like so many other marriages.
I would write my wife silly letters and slide them under her door during the night. The anticipation of spending time with her would probably be too much at times, so I have a feeling I would run into her room periodically and bonk her on the head with a pillow.
Of course, again, I could be completely wrong about all of this. That is why I would never let my vision get in the way of what my wife has to say.
I just realized that the “for the past thirty years” line came off as pointlessly melodramatic. It would be slightly disturbing if someone was attracted to me when I was a baby 🙂