Commitment is a little like faith. Look for reasons and you negate its possibility. But here’s the catch. Faith doesn’t hinge on reciprocity. Human relations are different. They are all about mutuality. Where it even momentarily wanes on one end, like a seesaw it teeter totters. Even where equilibrium is restored a new set of dynamics is in store for you. Return to old ways and you’re in for a lifeless ride. Attune yourselves to the dynamic and your history will not like baggage weigh you down but like children at the playground will involve an effervescent, however rocky, ride.
But what of this history? Pull the rug from beneath one’s feet and a world of metaphysical possibility opens prepared to consume the world you know. Nietzsche understood this when his Zarathustra announced the death of God. With the death of God comes crumbing down all grand metaphysical systems and the wasteland of moral ideals! This is no irrelevant tangent! For what is weighty about this history of human relations? Human narratives are embellished with moral sensibilities! For it is never the descriptive incarnation of events and exchanges that get to us, it is the moralized framework that weighs these down. That Carrie fell in love with a man 20 years her junior is neither here nor there until prejudices of value step in that are either condemnatory or praiseworthy; infidelity only becomes disapproving where sexual exclusivity is integral to one’s understanding of love and commitment but not otherwise; and the admiration of beauty in another becomes untoward and potentially disrespectful where possessiveness is an expression of devotion and mineness the property of love, and on and on the list goes. How can one ever escape the accumulation of a weighty history I ask you?!
Did you expect me to say, rid yourself of all your moral ideals!? Strip your narratives of all innuendo?! If so, you’d be wrong. Musical notes are lifeless lines until they are given sound! Human beings too are but inanimate bodies colliding in space, until they are given voice! Our voice is our “story”, our history, and it sings to the music that gives life dance. But what does all this poetic talk of music and dance have to do with Carrie and my cheating husband?
You might think of it this way: the world is a bit like music sheets, there’s really nothing to see until someone begins to pencil in the notes, and then suddenly, as it is with music, those inanimate bodies stand out in protest against the laws of physics and making their own rules, fashion themselves from the engaged activity that