Three different takes

on the same subject.

Tennyson wrote, in his poem In Memoriam,

I envy not in any moods
The captive void of noble rage,
The linnet born within the cage,
That never knew the summer woods:

I envy not the beast that takes
His license in the field of time,
Unfetter’d by the sense of crime,
To whom a conscience never wakes;

Nor, what may count itself as blest,
The heart that never plighted troth
But stagnates in the weeds of sloth;
Nor any want-begotten rest.

I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
’Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.



So, that's his argument. I can see it.

All the varying emotions, easy and hard, good and bad, light and dark, joy and sorrow, that are bound up together with love.. they tell us we're human beings, we're alive and free! Who would want it any other way? I get what he's saying.

Love is both sweet and bitter, spicy and bland, hot and cold.. that's what makes it great! It's the complementary nature of it, the constant change, the ups & downs that make it so invigorating, so startling, so robust and so challenging.

It gets to you. Gets under your skin. It's like a persistent itch you can't quite reach to scratch, but when you do.. ahh, the bliss of it! :) That is, until it itches again, and you scratch and scratch until it bleeds.

But then, with the bleeding, the nagging itch is finally finished, the salve you rub on it feels so nice, and the raw, bloody skin heals over again. While it's healing, though, it leaves a dark scab that you worry at, and pick off too soon, until your worrying at it leaves a permanent mark there - a scar that takes a long time to fade, or never does.

But who wants a love that leaves no permanent mark? Who invests their hearts in something transient and fleeting, easily healed and the experience forgotten?

It's like a tattoo that way. A henna tattoo causes no discomfort. It quickly fades and is forgotten. But a real one, an ink one made with needles... it hurts! It takes time to heal. It scars you. For life. It lasts. You remember the reason you got it. You don't forget why.

So, yeah, Alfred. I'm with you, man. Bring on the scar, I say! Then you remember what the love was all about. WHO it was all about - and how it changed you, marked you for life.



What follows are three sets of song lyrics, from very different sources, that all muse on the same thing, just not all with the same assuredness of Tennyson.

I guess maybe your view of it depends on where you are in the process - in the midst, with eyes red, nerves raw and stomach churning, or - well beyond, when you can look back peacefully and wistfully on those emotional days, seeing nothing now but benefit and growth?