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Posts Tagged ‘Shakespeare’

This is not about the Brian McKinight / Vanessa Williams song that came out when I was running around in that ridiculous box-pleated contraption called a school uniform. Nor is it about the current blog drama going on. As pissed off as I am about it, I think it’s time to get back to the normal scheme of things.

I wrote this a while ago and while doing a clean-up of my hard drive I discovered it and wondered why I never posted it before. My sentiments on the topic are a tad different now, but I still believe in the essence of it. Have a read…

shakespeare_folio_19_l1 

Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments

Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds

– Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare 

I could finish the whole sonnet, but I think its beginning encapsulates my thoughts. It does in its entirety as well, but maybe this post should be about me putting in my own words. 

I’ve heard that love ends. But if it was love to begin with, is that possible? Isn’t love supposed to be something that lasts a lifetime? Isn’t the whole term “love ends” an oxymoron? Love in infinite. Endings are just endings. Journeys end in lovers meeting et al. 

But people tell me that they’ve stopped loving someone. That they fell out of love. Could it possibly be that it wasn’t love at all to begin with then? Ofcourse that in itself sounds ridiculous too. Have we all ever truly been in love with just one person our entire lives? Or have we mistaken other lesser things for love? When someone breaks your heart, does it mean that you stop loving them or do you hurt so much because of the very fact that you love them still? The fact that you don’t have it in your power to stop loving that person. Isn’t that what kills you? 

You don’t look at someone one day and say “I’m going to fall in love with this person”. It just happens. It’s absolutely out of your control. All you can control is what you do, or don’t do about that wonderfully excruciating feeling that creeps up on you secretly and lets you know way too late to push it away. So if we have no control over the beginnings of love, how can we control the end of it, when it’s clearly stated in every holy book, every piece of poetry on the topic, almost every song that it cannot ever end. 

I said almost every song, because there is one that’s caught my fancy a few years ago by The Darkness called “Love is Only a Feeling”. It’s nice to comfort yourself with when something ends or doesn’t even begin. But I wonder to what degree it’s true. Because if love is ONLY a feeling, then by Shakespeare’s claim, no man ever loved, nor did he ever write anything. That seems a classic opener to go into the scholarly debate about Bill Shakes’ identity here, especially because of that claim, but it’s not the topic at hand, so let’s move on. 

Does love end? Can it? Of it does then is it a lesser version of love? Was it love at all? Or do we grow up to the new age concept of love that allows you to love one completely and then move on to love someone else the same way? Marriages made in heaven have ended in hell and the couples have moved on to love and even marry again. They were in love before. They are in love again. Or they have always been on a euphoric high mixed with tolerance of eachother for a certain period of time before the tolerance ran out? How un-romantic, but how very real. 

Do I have to be resigned to this school of thought or can I please continue to believe that love is much, much more than just a feeling?

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slippery

Before I get to what this ridiculously titled post is about, let me tell you that rehearsals are going fantastically. So much so that on a good high after a final run through of our songs, some of us thought of going out for a bite to eat last night. Pilla was crowded and everywhere else was closed so we decided to strut into Cinnamon Grand to have some munchies at the Coffee Stop.

We just sat down on one of their big comfy couches and were about to order and relax and talk about how the play was going and have a general recap of the rehearsal.

(On that note, I need to add an aside here. Everywhere I go, no matter what I do or who I’m with, I can’t seem to stop talking about the play. Non-stop. And I know I’m almost pissing people off to the point. It can get irritating, this obsession with theatre I tell you.)

Back to the story.

We were all tired and needed something in our stomachs desperately. One of my friends were in a pair of ¾. And as a result we were promptly asked to leave because he was in shorts. What bloody clothists I tell you! No one was indecently dressed or looked like ragamuffins for that matter either. We just wanted bloody food which we were more than willing to pay for! And when we argued that he was not in shorts per se, we were told to hop on down to Cheers who apparently would entertain our attire. So the area that costs more allows shorts vs a reasonably priced sandwich bar would entertain what we were wearing? Go figure.

Of course then we realized that most of us were in slippers and wouldn’t be entertained there either, so with a remark about the place also being slipperists, we stomped off. We did find food at Hot Shots and we did have the conversation we wanted.

A poor cast member and a wonderful friend, who plays Claude in the play was the main subject of conversation in that a scene of his that begins with the line “oh heavy deed” was something we all find particularly amusing. I know he’ll be reading this and probably kill us when he discovers that we spend our post rehearsal time imitating him, but he needs to know that our deed wasn’t all that heavy. 🙂

More tales about the folk from Elsie’s Bar will follow in the next few days. So stay tuned to this blog and the black lullaby in the lead up to opening night. A pre-production cat party is planned for tonight too. And probably a perfect night for it. When Friday the 13th generally rolls around, good things happen to me. 😉

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You remember Moulin Rouge? Ofcourse you do, even if you didn’t like it and the whole bohemian lifestyle it projected, it was a brilliantly art directed masterpiece. Well, this isn’t about the movie per se, but about one line that gets repeated, like a credo for Bohemians. I’ve always been one… well sort of. I don’t live in a community of them or exclusively dress in Indian fabric and listen to Buddha Bar all the time. Just when no one’s around 😉 Sorry about the stereo typing. Just in one of those moods today I guess.

Anyways, back to my point. The line in the movie. The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return. Its the saddest thing ever. Because when you’re not loved in return, or you don’t love back, someone suffers. Someone gets the raw end of it. And it could even be you someday.

This warrants itself to go into a discussion of what love is. But that’s probably going to take a whole year of posts to clarify and we’ll probably never get there. All I know is what love is for me. You may agree or disagree, but its how I know love someone : Firstly and fore mostly, love never ends. If I have ever loved someone in my lifetime, I have no stopped. Its not a wilful thing, I know a lot of people out there who don’t deserve my love, but I still love. I have no control over who I love and who I don’t, now do I? And love is not like loving ice cream, despite that wonderful song by Sarah McLaughlin. The ice cream feeling is just a high we tend to mistake for love. Love is more like ambrosia innit? (ok, ok… was trying to be funny. Didn’t work)

Love is forgiveness above all else. Love is working through the pain. Working through the faults. And still being able to love. So love is miserable sometimes. Its not about the flowery verses.

Its about real life. And its about escapism. At the same time.

Its not always about the emotional or physical high. No matter what the books tell you, it does fade. Its about knowing the other person. When all they see is black when they wake up in the mornings. Its love when you ache for that person, wanting them to be happy again. Its wanting to drive all those black clouds away. Its fidelity. Its companionship. Its friendship. Its relating. Its knowing the other person. And still wanting to stay despite that. Its not about sympathy or sex. Its about diminishing the cliche and the norm and seeing the person who they are. A wife, a friend, a husband is always supposed to be and look and act and do things a certain way. Didn’t Shakespeare say :I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground: And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare as any she belied with false compare. Ah, good old Bill Shakes. Helps me out when I’m stuck for words. Sonnet 130, that is. Its nice to know that I can love the way he described love.

Ok, so now I’m in a Shakespeare mood. Shall put down another of my favourites before I proceed any further : Sonnet 116. (I’ve changed the way the lines are broken so its easier to read)

Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments.

Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.

Love’s not Time’s fool,

though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle’s compass come:

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved

He said what I said at the beginning. Love never dies.

The point of my post is to show you an alternate to the Moulin Rouge line.

The saddest thing you’ll ever learn is what it feels like to love alone.

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