We struggle in this life. And those of us in touch with our inner demons of artistic and creative torment (otherwise commonly referred to as "depressed" ironically) -- we struggle more. We have to live the pain to know what passion is. And we apparently feel the need to drag those we love through it with us.
So however many years ago it was on this day, another incredibly depressed artistic man named Van Gogh, a broken man, gave a piece of himself (literally his ear) to a woman he "loved". I'm sure his intentions were good. I'm thinking if someone offered me a bloody and disconnected body part, I'd be a tad grossed out, regardless of their intentions.
And yet, don't we do that to each other all the time? All of us are broken or hurt in one way or another. And all we can hope for in this life is the connection with another... and we seek to offer our broken and mangled pieces of ourselves to one another. And sometimes it works, and souls mingle... but only temporarily.
Because we're not capable of maintaining such an intimate connection with another on our own. We need the help of someone higher than we are. The only one who can truly understand our broken souls, can heal our broken souls, and can allow us to truly connect with anyone... is God. (S)He longs to hold us close, to kiss away the pain, to show us true and unbroken love.
My personal resolution for the coming year (to borrow a concept) is to learn to feel and truly understand this true love, and to in turn share it with the world around me, in a pure and unblemished soul connection. In the meantime, however, I'm asking for outside help in this area, because I know it's gonna take me time to get there, and I know I cannot get there alone.
And there is never shame in asking for help... the only shame I find in love is within my own misguided intentions.