Of all the forces that drive human activity, love is both the most powerful and least comprehensible. What psychic dysfunction compels the Universe to make a person feel deeply attracted to someone who doesn’t feel the same? It’s as if God finds some sadistic entertainment in setting up both parties for failure — one convulsed in heartache, the other wallowing in guilt.

“Damn you, Universe, or whoever you are,” I say aloud to the insects, frogs and whatever being stirs below in the creek. “You’ve made humanity as dependent upon love as it is upon air, water, and food. Damn you. I’m tired of having my heart broken, tired of breaking someone else’s heart. So there.”

I slip back into silence, content that I’ve bitch-slapped the Universe’s highest existential power, feeling smug that I sent it cowering into some remote hole in a distant galaxy. At least from the perspective of a privileged American, the quest for love is tougher even than the daily quest for food and water. Many times I’ve been tempted to give up, to stop trying, to resign myself to a life without a love-partner.

But just as we persevere in the fight against injustice, we persevere in the search for love. We have no choice. Life without struggle, without love, is the rhythmless dance of the living dead. It is existence without heart, water without movement, night without desert stars or prairie fireflies. So, for the sake of love, for the sake of justice, for the sake of life itself, we keep going, one day at a time, one step at a time, hoping to get it right — if not this time, maybe the next, or the next, or the next. Continue Reading →