When I was a Christian, in high school I decided that I wanted to be a martyr. This seemed the greatest act one could do for their faith. I still have a deep desire to give my life for someone else, be it in blood or time and energy. I want to have mattered to someone. Real love has a cost. It has an impact. It isn’t just words or feelings.

But what if this inclination ties into self-destructive tendencies? What if I have come to equate certain harms to myself as part of this love, this martyrdom? I don’t think this is actually the case, but it should at least be considered.

Let me deal with the obvious, “noble” motivations. These are qualities I value and wish others to recognize in me. If others see these noble qualities in me I might feel validated that I am a good person and all the real actual work I have done inside myself may also be acknowledged.

Love. I see there being three kinds of love. There is the supernatural love of God which is not so much an emotion as it is a particle interconnecting all things. When you are in tune with this sort of love, you become aware of your connection with all existence, that you are indeed a part of everything else. Tapping into this love bestows enlightenment and peace, but can also be the source of self-righteousness and an elitist attitude regarding one’s own enlightenment.

I think I tend towards the latter. I feel like certain experiences in my life have granted me access to something beyond the veil of this world and I am therefore special. My feelings and ideas on certain matters are not to be questioned because I am so completely right. This is a matter I cannot be objective on. I cannot step outside of it to see if I am enlightened or have a ruthless desire to be right. I am unable to know if I am delusional because any information I glean on my own is suspect, perhaps clouded by delusion.

There is erotic love. Not necessarily base and carnal, but a different layer of communication and understanding. Words fail to articulate that place where our spirits meet flesh and we burn with light. Sound waves are no longer adequate and we press together so that these throbbing, desperate, wordless energies can have closer communion. Sometimes we forget that that is what we are seeking. It is hidden under layers of grime and damage and the rules of society, and our own numbness allows us to associate physical acts with love of many different names, some Pavlovian response telling us that, on some level, we are getting what we truly need when, in reality, it’s just fucking.

This connection is rare for me, and is in fact a singular experience. On one level , the connection is addicting and intoxicating as many rare experiences are. It is so different and fulfilling than experiences with other lovers that the sex takes on an almost holy quality for me. And I mean holy in its literal, non-religious sense of being set apart, lifted up. The uniqueness of it inspires magical thinking: if it is so special and set apart, then it must be “meant to be.” Sex is also an anodyne to my feelings that I will be deemed unworthy on some level. I have value if someone wants me as a lover. And I am even more valuable if the sex is unparalelled. Sex with other partners that lacks the deep connection of this erotic love further cements the notion that sex with one particular individual is holy.

And there is the love borne from role fulfillment. It is easier and more common to say “brotherly love” or “friendship” or “agape,” but I think it is a bit more complex than that. As we develop relationships and label them, we contrive expectations about how best to fulfill the relationships. There is a kind of love that happens when everyone plays their role as expected. “Father and son,” “employer and employee,” “soccer team,” “friends.” There is a reward system in place for when you mutually respect the terms of a relationship. You feel validated and good when someone upholds their end of the bargain and feel hurt and betrayed when they don’t.

Here is where I am the fuzziest. I’m not sure I learned to celebrate the love found in “ordinary” relationships. There is a disconnect somehow and I struggle with these relationships. My solution is often to draw the relationship into one of the other kinds of love where the territory is more familiar. I feel like I understand the roles better there. So I tend to not invest as much energy in relationships that do not seem like they are heading towards one of the first two kinds of love. Missed opportunities? Yes. Confusion and complication? Yes.

Well, it’s late and I’m weary. I’ll post as I muse on this further.

Sometimes you come to that point in your life where you simply manifest the things you’ve learned from all the other experiences meant to be “life lessons.” You realize that what you are experiencing is no longer a lesson, but a situation you respond to successfully because you’ve already learned how. There’s a different, quieter feeling associated with it, a way of observing yourself that is changed.

That is what today was like. A chain of mundane frustrations. I have a life insurance policy whose premium is deducted at certain intervals from my credit union account. I wanted to transfer it to my checking account at a different bank. My bank is partners with the insurance company, so it seemed like it was a simple matter of routing numbers. But it wasn’t. There were many phone calls and a labyrinthine process to navigate. I could sense the echoes of old programs running in my head, suggesting that now would be a good time to get frustrated. But I didn’t. I listened to the voice on the other end of the call, really listened and heard them as a person. They weren’t causing the problem. The explanations they gave made perfect sense. A tiny voice suggested I get irrate, but it just didn’t make sense. I saw that I needed to halt the process and start over at the very beginning. The problem was swiftly resolved.

Same thing with the heat and electrical problems in my apartment. I *believe* the landlord is doing his best to fix the problem. He isn’t the problem. The nature of winter and the poor wiring of the house are simply states that exist. If I am patient, these things will resolve. Complaining will only soothe my ego. I am really saying, “If you acknowledge there is a problem here, you are validating my importance. I am important enough for you to take special care to see to my needs.” But I don’t need that kind of validation from my landlord. I told him I was frustrated with the situation because that was honest. That’s all I needed to do. We connected as two people trying to resolve a situation, not as opponents accusing responsibility for things outside of anyone’s control.

The old programs simply failed to execute. I even thought, “Shouldn’t I get mad about this?” But I didn’t think that the situation was developing my character. My character has been developed already and I simply enjoyed the fruit of that past labor.

I could go on. The day was full of small disappointments and “no” and frustrations, and I was at peace with it.