“...I know I will also look back on this memory with fondness.” - Joe Loomis
Reflection 3
I told a friend recently that I no longer believed in love. I’ve been thinking on the subject since. It would appear to me that, in a general sense, love has become more conditional and transactional, like any business agreement. There is nothing inherently bad about a business transaction, but I always viewed love as something that touches the depths where the soul resides. Something that animates the human person with irrational levels of happiness. I’ve felt it, and felt the pain of its withdrawal. Haven’t we all?
I’ve never officially run a marathon, but growing up my buddy and I would run this 13-mile path (26 round trip) through four towns in Hudson Valley, NY to get to a particular Army/Navy surplus store. We’d run there, pick up some gear, eat something, and run back. I still have some of that gear to this day. We earned it in a challenge no one made us do. No one cheering us on, no congratulations at the finish, no aid stations, just a crazy smile passed between us knowing we just did that shit for fun. I loved this guy like my own brother. I didn’t know another friendship like that until after I enlisted (love you crazy bastards).
It’s interesting, the emotions associated with memories of romantic love – the Midwest mountain air, a pacific island beach, a sunny afternoon on the homestead – feel incredibly similar to memories like the one I just described – the woods after a spring rain, a snow-covered Naval base, the smell of chlorine after a training evolution. I associate these with overcoming challenges and becoming better alongside another doing the same. In a romantic sense, don’t the best relationships make you a better person? This begs the question, is love on the other side of hard?
I think perhaps what I mean by ‘I don’t believe in love’ is that love as a feeling is easy; it takes little effort. Often when challenge arrives, it’s gone. They’re gone… Foundational love comes from doing hard shit and overcoming challenges in tandem. If this frame is accurate, love is not dependent on receiving it passively from other people. If a point is made to do difficult things far beyond what is required on the day-to-day, even if done alone, love will be there. I run along the Haw River as much as I can because I love it, even when it destroys my body. I’m literally goofy-grinning as I carve along the trail soaking up whatever the trees and water are putting off.
The friends who have pushed through trials with me are family. My son and I are closer than ever after a year of doing this single-dad thing. That shit is hard, but we were made to do hard things. Not trying to make Goggins speech here (we put up the Christmas lights, mf’rs) but there is power there that pushes far past the transactional level.
As I gaze again at the sunrise behind the pines outside my window in quiet solitude, I know I will also look back on this memory with fondness. Be great, my friends. And love hard.
“...I know I will also look back on this memory with fondness.” - Joe Loomis
Reflection 3
I told a friend recently that I no longer believed in love. I’ve been thinking on the subject since. It would appear to me that, in a general sense, love has become more conditional and transactional, like any business agreement. There is nothing inherently bad about a business transaction, but I always viewed love as something that touches the depths where the soul resides. Something that animates the human person with irrational levels of happiness. I’ve felt it, and felt the pain of its withdrawal. Haven’t we all?
I’ve never officially run a marathon, but growing up my buddy and I would run this 13-mile path (26 round trip) through four towns in Hudson Valley, NY to get to a particular Army/Navy surplus store. We’d run there, pick up some gear, eat something, and run back. I still have some of that gear to this day. We earned it in a challenge no one made us do. No one cheering us on, no congratulations at the finish, no aid stations, just a crazy smile passed between us knowing we just did that shit for fun. I loved this guy like my own brother. I didn’t know another friendship like that until after I enlisted (love you crazy bastards).
It’s interesting, the emotions associated with memories of romantic love – the Midwest mountain air, a pacific island beach, a sunny afternoon on the homestead – feel incredibly similar to memories like the one I just described – the woods after a spring rain, a snow-covered Naval base, the smell of chlorine after a training evolution. I associate these with overcoming challenges and becoming better alongside another doing the same. In a romantic sense, don’t the best relationships make you a better person? This begs the question, is love on the other side of hard?
I think perhaps what I mean by ‘I don’t believe in love’ is that love as a feeling is easy; it takes little effort. Often when challenge arrives, it’s gone. They’re gone… Foundational love comes from doing hard shit and overcoming challenges in tandem. If this frame is accurate, love is not dependent on receiving it passively from other people. If a point is made to do difficult things far beyond what is required on the day-to-day, even if done alone, love will be there. I run along the Haw River as much as I can because I love it, even when it destroys my body. I’m literally goofy-grinning as I carve along the trail soaking up whatever the trees and water are putting off.
The friends who have pushed through trials with me are family. My son and I are closer than ever after a year of doing this single-dad thing. That shit is hard, but we were made to do hard things. Not trying to make Goggins speech here (we put up the Christmas lights, mf’rs) but there is power there that pushes far past the transactional level.
As I gaze again at the sunrise behind the pines outside my window in quiet solitude, I know I will also look back on this memory with fondness. Be great, my friends. And love hard.