Saturday, May 31, 2008

of love and other demons...


“Jesus won’t save you.”
“No. Momma He will.”
“He won’t because you have sinned. He will save you only if He loves you.”
“Momma, Jesus loves everybody; sinners, even me.”

Telling isn’t it? Little children scared by their parents into submission to the world of religion that the child doesn’t understand, more often than not, the parent doesn’t. God has to love us sinners more than the saints for we need him the most. He shall have to put faith in us, for we need most forgiveness. He shall have to pay more attention to us, for we need Him.

The little novel by Marquez talks of good, of evil, of love, of passion, of deceit, of gods that Christian religion doesn’t understand, of madness, of solitary sorrow, of debauched misgivings, of addictions, of the eternal human caprice to want to reach a place where morality can be left at the doorstep and deep breaths in the arms of the forbidden beloved shall not be looked upon with a disapproving eye.


The little girl Sierva Maria found peace in the lies that she told her European parents, in the songs she sang for the African housemaids, in the arms of the priest Cayetano Delaura in the cold dreary prison cell of the convent, in the moment when she knew that it was her last breath. The priest was doomed by his education and direction in life when it was confronted with the bounteous beauty of life. Vows of celibacy are just so trite. Love is what steps out of the hackneyed path. The Marquis’ love for the mad woman, Abrenuncio’s love of horses, the Bishop’s love of the motherland… the Abbess’ love for herself all lead to but one path.

Madness, solitude, anger, tantrums, love, sex, drugs are all sedatives that set humans on the track of domesticity. Some hide these afflictions better than others. Others hide their illicit affairs. Each act of pure physical love gets mired in terms of adultery or prostitution. Each act of romantic love is an act of cheating. We sinners need God most. God needs us sinners the most. Ours is the symbiotic relationship.

Walk in, flit out, sift through, take stock, have some recourse, make demands, let go, hang on… where does it all lead us? Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide; look for kindred spirits, look for redemption, look for those arms that never was for us in the first place. He doesn’t exist. If he does, he loves someone else. He wants someone else. He lies in bed with you but he sleeps with her. You sleep with someone else. You’re all alone. You’re on your own. You drink, you forget, you see someone else.

When was the last time you woke up to someone you expected to wake up next to??

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

The absurd raises its sinister head yet again...cliches renewed as genius in novel ways...chaos within a tormented spirit...sin groping for a rational god... pleasure garbed as sexual liberation...latter walking about the dark alleys in the heels of age...confused passion relived as morbid promiscuity...the drool of the tantalus...and a miserable bit of protoplasm chain-reacting to a swift destruction...oh the utter futility of the question marks...and the infinite frailty of man...

Deranged Insanity said...

Simply Whao!

@Mr. Anonymous
Sir! Just one little question:

Are you planning to/Did you publish any of your book? Or you only prefer to write here?

And I am as excited as the author of this blog to uncover the man behind this anonymity!

... said...

hey babe.. deranged insanity.. i don;t wanna know who's anonymous.. i'm okay with things.. you wanna know, you find out for yourself..

Deranged Insanity said...

LoL! Great! But I can't do anything to figure out who this anonymous person is!

Anyways I don't even wanna... just interested in his writings...

Btw ...How are you now? Hope you have recovered well! =))

And almost forgot ... Though it's kinda late ...But Congrats for your marriage! :)

Anonymous said...

Before the spatial and temporal span of our innocent and sparing attention steps into the vain realm of identity search, may we not depart hastily to embrace the warmth afforded by our mercurial ideas? Surmise, if I may, that the initial excitement of meeting a stranger merely emanates from our innate propensity to manipulate the person’s estimate of us.

So hold high the insignia of anonymity my dears, and march on with pennons of intellect on full mast, for the enduring truth is read between the eyes. Is that a phrase?

... said...

'enduring truth is read between the eyes'... i like that.. anonymity ahoy!!!

Anonymous said...

This is what one gets from sexual liberation and being too dumb to know what love is.

Anonymous said...

Hey, I am checking this blog using the phone and this appears to be kind of odd. Thought you'd wish to know. This is a great write-up nevertheless, did not mess that up.

- David