Love: Impossible Transmutation


This evening I read a lovely piece by the ever deep S.C. Hickman. Hickman posted A Short History of Love on his site Dark Ecologies. I commented on his poem and it got me thinking as Hickman and I exchanged comments on his post about describing and defining feelings with words. It seems impossible to do, but writers try. Love… What is it? Is it something? Is it nothing? How do we begin to understand those things which are not always concrete? I told Hickman that I don’t always understand what I feel. Sadly…

In A Room with a View, by E.M. Forster, Mr. Emerson tells Lucy “you can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you.” Why can’t we just pull it out? Maybe some can? Those who can, likely never loved to begin with. It is easy for them. The 1908 romantic novel by the English writer explored allusion and symbolism in his critique of society in the 20th century. As a writer, I have to adore Forster’s theme of light versus dark and those who are blind versus those who see. But…how do we see? Is it with the eyes?

Is it what we see from inside of us and what we don’t see at all that defines love? Love is everything and nothing at all. If we could transmute, muddle, ignore, or pull out what’s inside, we could better define love. We could take what we pull out and look at it closely…with our eyes. We could grasp love and hold it tight. Maybe we could keep love? Oh…Mr. Emerson…you were so wrong. Transmutation is impossible. If I could alter things, translate and transcribe them, now that would be a rare metamorphosis.

Oh…Hickman…you are so right. Defining love is “the most difficult art of all” and not one of us will likely “plumb the depths…” as you have said. Thank you for inspiring me to think. Not everyone likes a thinker. I guess it is easier to *try* and “transmute love…” Like Mr. Emerson said…you can “ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you.” That is the only truth I can honor through my poetic, artistic, and psychological exploration of the illusive, heart wrenching four-letter word.

Explore posts in the same categories: Allusion, Authors, Books, Connection, Darkness, Light, Mind Melt, Personal Glimpses, Pleasure and Pain, Poetry, Poets, Quotes, Reflection, Worthy Reads, Writers, Writing

2 Comments on “Love: Impossible Transmutation”

  1. S.C. Hickman Says:

    It’s like that Shelleyian cyclic poem that never ends because we keep coming back to it over and over and over again. Repetition is master in love.

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