“But he loves you” my friend said to me. I opened my mouth to reply but not a single word came out. There was so much I wanted to say and so many questions I wanted to ask but I realised he that stood before me would not comprehend, so I gave a half smile and moved on. A longing soul is an undiscering one, someone comes along and says ‘I love you’ and that moment every cell jumps up in joy because from birth all the soul ever crave is this elusive thing called love. Growing up in dysfunctional home where love and emotional reinforcement is lacking does not help matters, one can’t differentiate the fake from the real, as far as we are concerned, gold plated and gold are all the same, there is no difference between real leather and faux paux, they look alike so they must be the same. An idiot arrives with tears in his eyes and the right tone of voice saying ‘I love you’ and with bright wide eyes and outstretched hands we accept the nonentity. Certain questions that should be asked are inadvertently omitted, we jump all processes and procedures, from falling in love to bedding to marriage we move at the speed of lighting.
But hold on! What does this Gumbie know or understand about love? What does love mean to him? Has he ever loved anyone? Does he even love himself and how does this love manifest itself? What eactly does he love about you? How does he intend to keep the flame of love? But if we leave the love to one side for a second. Who exactly is the person behind the profession of love? Do we have anyone at home? Is he worthy? Do we have anything in common? Is he an abuser? Is he matured, developed, evolved or do we have a man child in front of us holding flowers smiling sheepishly? Before we accept the flowers and allow both the flowers and flower bearer into our home and life, we ought to pay heed. We can’t just see the flowers and ignore the hands holding the flowers, but how many times have we done just that? Totally enarmoured by what is thrust in front of us. As far as my friend was concerned, the fact that he said ‘he love’ was all that matter. The ‘he’ professing the love was not to be assessed to see if he can deliver on the claim or not. The profession was all that matter. How stupid does the longing soul get, and in no time we are heart broken? I feel like saying rightfully so, but I also understand the vulnerability and difficulties of such journey. Even employers do better, they don’t just go by the curriculum vitae, they interview the applicants, they don’t just googly eyed select the applicant with the most flowery CV.
When we are famished , we need food, but must we just eat any food placed in front of us? Must we eat poison or rotten food? Must we not ask where the food came from? Who is the caterer or the chef? Where was the food prepared? Was it clean, decent or some deplorable dirty establishment? What went into the food preparation? Are the ingredients healthy and wholesome? Or are we eating chemicals that are incompatible with our bodies? No, the hungry man does not ask any questions, he just eats and that is the plight of the hungry soul.
May we not be too hungry to lack discernment. In our hunger may we have the strength and discipline to inquiry and enquiry.
Beautiful Ivory 