Letters to Luthien

Letters to My Future Bride

Sundry Thoughts from the Weekend

Dear Darling,

I stepped off the bus and headed towards my car. It had been a long day, though a former classmate shouting my name in greeting provided a momentary bright spot. It was a dreary day, but I didn’t mind. I like them. I’ve some stresses and pressures looming, but I’ll make it through them. There was nothing different about the day, but for some reason, I was assailed by an unusually strong dose of anticipation. It had to do with the song “I Just Died In Your Arms” on the radio, and for whatever reason, I suddenly felt renewed and violent pangs of desire and sadness — desire, for your arms to come home to, and sadness because I knew they wouldn’t be there. A brief trip inside the mind of having you in my life, and a sorrowful retreat from it. No fear, the moment passed. All too quickly…but not quickly enough.

I thought again how much I’ll relish picking up the phone to call you, feeling my phone buzz getting a text from you, playing Words with Friends. How am I ever going to keep my mind on my work? All I’ll be wanting to do is get back to my phone and see what you just sent me.

That was a couple of days ago. I’m afraid that then, and since, I’ve been spending the past several weeks cramming things into my mind that it doesn’t normally use. It’s been wedging to the side the things that come naturally, which only tonight flow back into their natural state.

It’s funny how sometimes you have to take a walk and let your mind unpack and decompress. I was quiet and reclusive at dinner and no one really noticed. I finally went for a walk and the thoughts began gently draining, interspersed with prayer. I realized I had feelings of anger towards a colleague who outperforms me at many levels. His knowledge runs deeper, his humor exceeds mine, and he performs better than I. Then I thought of a friend I haven’t spoken with in some time, and how she had received a minor injury. I had to ask forgiveness for the terrible sin of feeling grimly happy at the pain of another. It’s a maladaptive satisfaction of a primitive desire for revenge, and it’s silly and sinful. Things like her actions really shouldn’t hurt me. No one should have that power, except maybe you.

Breathing all those thoughts out and away, I looked to the horizon to see a dim yellow moon, waning as she rises. I think…I think that’s how I feel tonight. A little worn down, a little on the down-swing. Frayed. I have plenty of short-term reasons to feel that way, but even longer-term. I feel older than my years.

Sometimes I read these letters and think you’ll be wondering if I’m bipolar or have radical mood swings, because first I’m confiding dark secrets and sad musings, and then I turn around and weave promises of our happy life together. Maybe you’re going to have to teach me how to laugh and lighten up, but I’m not bipolar. If anything, take from it that I intend to give of myself to you even when I’m feeling bad. I’m just going to need you to be there for me when I am.

Anyway. So it’s been a busy week, full of many new experiences and thoughts. I’m not sure they fall into any specific category and so I list them independent of importance or relevance:

1) I cannot stand people who are infatuated with their own pretentious importance.

2) What if God isn’t training me for politics? Maybe I’m changing. Maybe God is, or His plan for me. My future seems to be. I simply feel a growing sense of hatred towards politics. Or at least the fact that I keep fighting and seldom see results, or am recognized for them. I had to speak at a conference, and I just wanted to get away from it all. I had to stand before a hundred people and impress them, and felt a resistance so strong I had to ask the Lord for the strength and enthusiasm to follow through. (He gave it to me.) Lights and glory don’t do it for me anymore. I don’t feel like I want to do what it takes to pursue the path I thought I was supposed to take. I’m not fake enough. I want to fix problems and have them fixed, not dwell in a perpetual cycle of prolonging the problem because I enjoy making money or attention from it. I shouldn’t be this easy to discourage. I got everything I wanted out of the trip, but I feel detached, like my trip was actually a movie I watched that faded with the credits. I feel like I became someone else for a weekend, immersed in a 48-hour getaway, and that was it.

3) I’m so looking forward to the freedom of travel with you…to make our own decisions and afford our own adventures. I don’t travel alone often, and compare most vacations to the family excursions, which were great fun, and we voted on activities, but to be alone with you and make the decisions ourselves will be fun.

4) A winking green light or vibration on a cellular phone can be a very cheering thing indeed.

5) I wish they would outlaw string bikinis. Seriously. Darling, I work with the human body all the time. Both genders, all parts. As much as I hate that my barriers to the human body were broken down in that way, it was somehow in God’s will so I accept it. But to see someone strutting down the beach in a bikini, and suddenly forced into the position of “look anywhere but there” when you can’t look anywhere BUT there, not because you derive gratification from it, but because, well, that’s some woman’s butt just flaunting and wiggling and strutting around, right out in public. I feel like a woman’s body should be worth more than that. This is a root of my anger towards those who don’t wait. They should be worth more. Sex should be worth more. It shouldn’t be cheap. As a man, I feel like access to a woman’s body should only come with 100% complete lifelong trust and commitment…through marriage. A man should earn and strive for that kind of trust. Flashing it out in public for anyone to see…or giving sex freely cheapens it. It depresses me that so many men take or receive such treasured goods so freely. It’s unfathomable to be so cavalier, so nonchalant. I hope it also means that something they didn’t work for means less to them, but you already knew that as a virgin, I am trying to suppress a growing resentment and hatred for cheaters. No one quite seems to understand this anger I feel. To me, it is perfectly natural. I do know one thing. The years of fighting desire will take their toll on us. You and I are going to have to be extra careful, or we’ll end up playing with matches in the powder room.

6) Every pleasure brings with it the pain of not sharing it with you.

7) My world is shrinking. It’s not that there’s nothing new under the sun, it’s just that under this stoic and impenetrable poker face, those things are less stimulating or surprising. I’ve never been an adrenaline junkie, but the thought of standing on the prow of a boat struggling against a headwind, a sea-spray and rain in my face, the possibility of failure and death looming, somehow appeals to me. There’s not enough risk

I want new sights, new tastes, new sounds and smells. Darling, I’ve done a lot of “big” things now, and I’ve found it’s the small things that bring the greatest pleasure. It’s not standing up before a crowd of important people and delivering a speech…it’s finding a peaceful moment on a deserted beach under a full moon by the ocean. Nature holds more meaning to me than a room full of applause. It’s the little things like going for a run, or finally having a weekend off, that make the difference. It’s a familiar face in a crowd full of strangers. It’s hearing your name shouted out, and turning to see a friend who is glad to see you. It’s the gifts of surprise and laughter, of knowing you can be there for someone, that they need you and you’re making a difference. It’s the stories you gather in life. It’s the things you think won’t be good that surprise you. I’d like to be surprised by goodness again.

8) How many times do you wait (in vain) for someone to show you they care before you assume they don’t?

9) Am I changing? I’m becoming quieter. I realize I laugh less. I’m not as funny with other people as I used to be, and I don’t know why that is. I feel like I’m more boring than I wanted to be. I think if you asked people who knew me, they would stoutly disagree, but I feel that way. I’ve always been a blend of introvert and extrovert, but maybe I favor introversion more these days. It’s always been an ongoing battle in life, to be open or closed. Being open is freeing. I hardly have anything to hide in life…I can afford to be open. But life cuts off your nose if you’re too open. People don’t like a guy who is open, because he makes them feel bad about having so much to hide. A girl was asking me questions about myself the other night, and in my typical frankness, I listed my traits, including faith and waiting till marriage. She, a believer, immediately admitted she was less pure than I. There’s too much shame and sin and regret in their eyes. I don’t want to exist to put people to shame, but nor do I want their shame weighing down my own shoulders.

10) During my trip, I saw so many happy, smarmy, cutesy little love bug couples. If they weren’t so spread out along my journey, I’d have called it a convention. They were clasping each other’s hands, nuzzling each other, stroking each others’ hands, arms, shoulders, kissing. So affectionate, so in love. Sometimes they caught me looking, or almost did because I looked away the moment they appeared to look my way. Oh sure, they’re probably doing it wrong, they’re probably just more cheaters to be angry with. I don’t much care. I’m glad to know love exists, to see it in practice. It’s funny to me how many people malign marriage and discuss their marital displeasure and frustrations. Most of them choose it. And all I can do is look at these happy couples, distantly, wearily envious, wishing it was us. Imagine people taking for granted the most precious and wonderful thing in their life. I can’t help but feel married life, even at its worst, is going to be better than single life.

I want, I need someone to care for me, to show me they care, to give of themselves. As I view the world around me, the mean and meager minds which weigh a man by his measure in money, or what things he can do for them, I feel even more alienated and estranged from them, from the planet they live on. I look at a person for what I can give them, what their needs are. That’s just how my brain works…how God made me. I can hardly claim sainthood. It’s probably actually selfish, because helping others makes me fulfilled and happy. (Sort of.) But every so often, I need that person who wants to know about me and only me.

Darling, my mind may be fertile and rambling, but it is not inexhaustible. Somewhere out there, I hope you are sleeping peacefully and dreaming wonderfully.

Me? I’m just sitting here waiting on forever to begin.

Yours ever,
Beren

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October 5, 2012 - Posted by | Loneliness, Nights Like These, Purity, Sundry Thoughts

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