Mancies for Nancies

I happen to subscibe to the Puritan theory of typology, namely that everything we witness is a symbol of some larger truth. It only makes sense that, as the invisible, atomic patterns of existence are a model of the larger, astronomical patterns, so we who inhabit the levels between the two are also subject to the same rules. We are, of course, often unaware of the patterns due to proximity, but this does not negate their existence. I do not tend to take it quite as far as the Puritans did, namely to the level of seeing our own futures in the migration of ants, but this is not due to disbelief, but rather due to distrust of my interpretation.

I tend to see a medium for meditation in the books and music that the universe sends my way. For example, my Ipod just randomly played Purcell's I Was Glad as performed by Chanticleer, to remind me of my involvement in the First Colorado Springs Gay Men's Chorus. It is a pity that a city of nearly 1,000,000 people does not have such an institution, and a dozen of my friends and I have just this week had our first rehearsal to remedy that deficiency. The Ipod is what you might call my equivalent of a Magic Eight Ball. And I put even more stock in Bibliomancy, the assumption that we are led to read that which most serves us. Case in point: I started to read Gene stratton Porter's Freckles while I was in the hospital, but was unable to finish it for some reason. I learned recently that I was meant to read it, for obvious reasons, after my amputation.

Which leads me to what I am reading today:

"You'll love again, but you must teach
your heart some self-control; for each
and every man won't understand it
as I have . . . learn from my belief
that inexperience leads to grief" (Pushkin, Eugene Onegin, 4.XVI).

As a recently out gay man, I find myself going through phases of learning through which I should have gone in Middle School. A variety of circumstances conspired, in my youth, to keep me from learning the mechanics of dating, not the least of which was my youthful marriage to the first woman I ever dated in the hope of becoming straight. I am finding now that there is a set of lessons that must be learned, in order, to master the intricacies of finding a relationship. Pushkin has spoken to me from beyond to clarify the lesson which is in front of me right now.

You see, I give my heart and undivided attention far too easily. I become obsessed with men whom I find interesting quite quickly, and this is not a functional approach to relationships. It is, rather, akin to the boyish crushes one might form during puberty. Like Tatyana in Onegin, I find it far too easy to form attachments, even as she does to Eugene after a single meeting. I officially apologize to Micah and Nathan for pinning any interest on them without real grounds. I need to learn, as the narrator of Onegin suggests,

"Just let yourself be your whole care,
your loved one, honourable reader!
Deserving object: there can be
nothing more lovable than he" (4.XXII).