Saturday, July 31, 2010

The Absence of Fences

I am afraid of intimacy.

I like the comfort of being in control of my personal world.

When I chance loving another being, I surrender the illusion of being the one who makes things happen.

In marriage we must recognize our own personal fences. The types, styles, colors and purposes of our fences are totally our design.

Well, we did have help in constructing our fences from our parents, family of origin and social constructs. Religions are notorious carpenters as well. So fences are prefab.

All the fences we have constructed are purposeful.
They are intended to keep some things in and others out. Their effectiveness may wane, however.

My fences help contain parts of my Self when necessary.

Fences also help me to define where my ten acres begin and end . . .

  • Is it possible to live and love in a relationship with the absence of fences?
  • Is it reasonable to ask for the happiness felt in a secure relationship to be given without expectations?
  • I am playing at being a higher power when I expect and wish for increased intimacy in my marriage?
  • Does love ask me to let someone be my priority while I am only their option?

I am seeking a new world without fences. Would I be able to love in a world in the absence of fences? I think I may encounter God there.

Arizona Fence, #7626

© 2010 James W. Murray, all rights reserved.

(click image for larger version)

Details: January 6, 2007; Canon 20D; f/11 @ 1/320 sec; ±0 EV; ISO 400; 61mm.


1 comment:

  1. Intimacy is based on vulnerability. We have to allow ourselves (or teach ourselves) to become vulnerable which requires rebuilding your trust if that has been broken. I learned at a very early age that my needs were not acceptable (aka lack of basic trust); being loved (and staying alive) required manipulating other people or controlling the situation. I stopped believing that if I relaxed, things would turn out OK, because they rarely did. The thought of living without love when I can have it is worse than imagining a future when I’ve lost it.

    My Epiphany: I have spent my life protecting myself from losses that have already happened.