Death suits you well, darling.

A 6-photo story starring Taj Sivertsen, Jordan Geyerman and Henry the skull.

What is the Upper Hand?

Okay so I am obsessed with this book right now. I highly recommend it.

The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. Gibran writes as if he is a prophet about to leave a people he lived with for 12 years. They ask him for some last words on important subjects (like love, reason and knowledge, pain, self-knowledge, time, good and evil, pleasure, religion, death and so much more). He responds with a poem for each topic. It is great stuff.


The following are excerpts from his poem on Love. Afterwards, I'll give you my two cents on the matter. You are so welcome.

Kahlil Gibran on Love  

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
...
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. 
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth. 

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
...
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

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So What is the Upper Hand?

As I read this poem, it made me think about the struggle for "the upper hand" in relationships. Any type of relationship. There's too often a fight for that ambiguous "upper hand." What the heck is the upper hand?? It seems like it changes all the time, especially in 'romantic' relationships.

Is "having the upper hand" equivalent to maintaining emotional distance? Is it saving face? Is it being less invested than the other person, but still getting what you want out of it?

Gibran's poem reminds me of this "upper hand" phenomenon when he suggests that love "threshes you to make you naked." Nakedness is vulnerability. Love or anything approaching it will make you feel vulnerable anyway. On an internal level, it will thresh you naked whether you like it or not. 

I think we can take the upper hand by voluntarily offering up our vulnerability.
  
When we offer up our vulnerability, we are completely honest with ourselves and others. We live life openly, without cloaked intentions weighing us down. 

Results? We are liberated. We become less concerned with controlling relationships and it's more likely that we'll learn and grow from them. We will get to laugh all our laughter and weep all our tears. We receive a fuller life. Sounds like the upper hand to me.

Quelqu'un m'a dit

This is the type of song you listen to on repeat on a long car ride to California while you're reading a sad, honest book. It's the type of song you listen to while you're falling in love. It's the type of song that starts to play as you walk away from him in blissful, utter disbelief of what just occurred. It's the type of song that you put on as you twist restlessly in your sheets, remembering the way his lips felt on yours. It's the type of song you listen to as your heart is breaking, and everything beautiful seems to unravel slowly. It's the type of song you listen to when your heart is broken-- for a moment, you are physically paralyzed; for a lifetime, you become emotionally numb and immovable. It's the type of song that lets your senses drink in all the sweet beauty and pain the world has to offer. It's the type of song that plays as you careen off a smooth, slippery cliff, and you don't mind. Because this song is playing, you are suspended in air, and that is enough.

Happy Birthday, Dad!

I love my father.

I love my father because he introduced me to music with texture.
I love my father because he values ice cream and movies.
I love my father because he's creative.
I love my father because he's a problem-solver.
I love my father because when he gets in a fit of laughter, it's contagious.
I love my father because he gave me a job during high school.
I love my father because he would insist we share 3 things about our day during dinner, and waking up, going to seminary, and going to school didn't cut it as our contributions.
I love my father because he helped me with math, but refused to give me the answers easily; I had to put forth significant effort to learn.
I love my father because he took me on Date with Dads.
I love my father because sometimes he makes hysterical unexpected jokes that catch you off-guard.
I love my father because he loves board games. And he is hilariously competitive at Uno and Yahtzee.
I love my father because he still pursues cool new music to add to his collection; most adults don't do that.
I love my father because he seeks joy in life.
I love my father because he's a good story-teller.
I love my father because he doesn't dwell on misfortune.
I love my father because he magnifies his church callings.
I love my father because he was patient during my adolescent years.
I love my father because he taught me the value of hard work.
I love my father because he has given me tough love.
I love my father because he has given me tender love.
I love my father because he taught me the thrill of serving others.
I love my father because he genuinely cares about making our family feel like a family.

Happy Birthday, Dad.
I love you!

-Kristina