By ~Sharlet Liebel ©2011

A person’s philosophy is relatively simple. That is to say: whatever a man or woman believes is the ultimate truth, in that moment as personally divined, he/she grants him/herself  personal righteousness. Beliefs become fact. So be it.

It isn’t as though I didn’t have the answer but, after five years of being drawn in and out of the relationship, I was curiously intent on an explanation. Somehow, there was no right way to ask the question. For the sake of getting my point out into the daylight of what appeared to be an afternoon soap opera, I inquired if he would feel less burdened if I were to find a more permanent partner. Apparently, five years had given him sufficient time to weigh whether or not he was willing to part with a sure thing. After a moment, I discovered his reluctant philosophy. He had several women he was seeing and however much he cared for them, he didn’t love them. He loved me. Now it was up to me to understand that he really loved me but he was not in-love with me. I must accept this love as a truelove. When I questioned why I didn’t feel loved, he reprimanded me that love had to be my way, the way I wanted it to be. He said he really loved me and I must accept it as truth.

Because I required a love with a man who wanted to spend time with me and who enjoyed being with me, I was sadly out of tune with the psychological implication of love beyond intimacy from an altered state of mind. I could not perceive through any of my senses nor appreciate the mystery in such a narcissistic approach to naked love. Love is without boundaries and with moralistic justification ~ strange. Still, I had never heard about such love. Here was a foreign philosophy. It was neither right nor wrong and it was wrought of this century. It was, after all, a reality in someone’s life. Here is where we parted company.

My philosophy about love is that it grows and the present and future of such love gets increasingly better. My partner’s belief revealed an unwillingness to invest in the future and that if perfect happiness didn’t work for two people, one might as well move on. At that, there was an inconceivable silence and the echo of sadness is the only sound I heard.

Speak to me of love. Speak to me of hope. Images begin in miniature and become enlargements as they are divined by you and me.


2 Responses to PHILOSOPHICAL THOUGHTS By ~Sharlet Liebel

  1. Sharlet here are three poems that echo some of the perspective ethos you discuss above.

    when does grieving end

    in the wistful wish
    of a memory
    of that fantasy
    that almost came true

    addictive than cocaine
    was the thought
    the act
    of loving you

    for a
    thousand days
    a thousand nights
    you were on my mind
    in my heart

    were as much a part
    of me as the blood
    that fed my body
    and nourished my soul

    charted course
    the path we walked
    the long horizon
    we both sought

    the fictive fantasy
    I constructed
    from your
    constrained I-love-you’s

    addictive than cocaine
    was the thought
    and the act
    of loving you
    it has been a year
    since it’s been clear
    that you were
    taking the catnip
    away from me

    one last
    made-up betrayal
    one last rejection
    of my love
    we said good bye
    never speaking
    the words
    and still
    I cannot shake
    the thought of
    or the act of
    every synapse
    is so well grooved
    a Marianas Trench
    connecting every sense
    of sight,
    of sound,
    of smell,
    of touch and taste
    to every moment
    I ever spent
    with you
    does grieving end
    and life without you
    begin again
    how, even,
    is that possible
    that life can be lived
    without you

    ©rjs robertjsadler 9.2.14

    though the music
    may linger
    is but a fading shadow

    Lansing Feb. 2011
    snow through the window

    a brief video
    a melancholy moment
    (winters ago, now)
    a silent walk
    across the living-room
    a somber look
    through its large window
    to a winter world
    alight aglow

    everything covered
    as if by a dozen
    white comforters
    piled upon one another
    the spruce in the yard
    with snow

    there was warmth
    a satisfaction there
    a slow piano melody
    lingered softly in the air
    no hint of storm
    or ill wind
    no way to project
    a future
    without you

    or was that brief
    moment (in replay)
    a recognition of a serenity
    that would never
    be again

    ©rjs robertjsadler 9.17.14


    that memory
    were linear—moment
    by moment day by year
    stacked upon one another

    first in first out
    in time those memories
    I have of you
    loving you
    and the ecstasy I thought
    we shared
    would fade even dis-

    but no
    those memories are
    so firmly rutted
    in my brain
    no amount of mental
    can wash them
    from my vision’s path
    roadblocks & barricades
    I think I have constructed
    prevent them
    from appearing
    willy-nilly as if real
    from now
    in a single eye-blink
    to then
    only to come back to now
    a sadder countenance
    for the exercise

    ©rjs robertjsadler 9.17.14

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