“The Moth don’t care when he sees The Flame.
He might get burned, but he’s in the game.
And once he’s in, he can’t go back, he’ll
Beat his wings ’til he burns them black…
No, The Moth don’t care when he sees The Flame. . .
The Moth don’t care if The Flame is real,
‘Cause Flame and Moth got a sweetheart deal.
And nothing fuels a good flirtation,
Like Need and Anger and Desperation…
No, The Moth don’t care if The Flame is real. . . ”
― Aimee Mann
Do you blame the flame for consuming the moth. Do you blame an idea for consuming a person to such an extent that it leads to the destruction of their soul.
Rebecca was passionate about politics. In the heat of political debate she became a fiery volcano, spewing her views at anyone who crossed her path with contrary opinions. She despised Republicans. Those Trump loving, gun loving, racist, misogynist demagogues. She wasn’t born angry. In her younger days she was very perceptive in her observations of life, she cared about other people and would go out of her way to show them small kindnesses and let them know she cared. She had slowly grown into her political ideology after the blush of puberty. Each perceived societal injustice burned into her soul because she cared so much. It reached its climax in university when she took a course on ‘ Protesting For Social Justice Issues ‘. She was taught that it was her right to vigorously protest the inequities in society and to shame and disrupt opposing views. She was content to be confined to her echo chamber, allowing her mind to become an empty shell, repeating her political mantras.
“Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.”
― Robert Frost
Is it right to conserve the past, keep our traditions, encase them in ice and preserve them till the end of time. Is it right to freeze an idea in our minds, unchanging, preserving it till we die.
Robert was very political. He knew what he believed, and that was that, no debate necessary. No compromise. He was cold towards other points of view and debated contrary opinions with icy rhetoric. No need to get emotional when he was so certain of his beliefs. He didn’t actually hate the Democrats, he just considered them a bunch of trouble makers of no consequence. Rabble rousers trying to pull down the foundations of society with their fiery, emotional rhetoric and virtue signalling. He wasn’t born entombed in his views. He was the ideal child, listened to his parents, respected them, was liked by his teachers, received excellent grades in school. He was a little reserved, didn’t make friends very easy, but loved tradition. He was a creature of routine, everything in its place, order was his rule of the day. He held to these views through puberty, high school and university. Unchanging.
“Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”
― Anais Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934
Rebecca approached the counter at Starbucks and ordered an iced peppermint white chocolate mocha and a blueberry yogurt and honey muffin. Reaching inside her pocket she found it empty, as realization dawned that she had changed jackets that morning and had left her wallet in the other jacket. She gave a sigh and explained to the server what she had done and turned around to leave.
Robert happened to be the next person in line and understanding Rebecca’s dilemma offered to pay for her coffee and muffin. She politely declined, but Robert insisted that he was sure she would have done the same for him. So she eventually accepted. Robert ordered a skinny mocha and lemon loaf, paid for him and Rebecca, and proceeded to find a table. The only space to be found was the same table as Rebecca, he sat opposite her and soon they began to strike up a conversation.
Rebecca explained her love of art and her ambition to tour all the famous art galleries in the world.
Robert stated his love of history and how he would love to explore the ancient cathedrals of Europe, the Taj Mahal and the pyramids.
Rebecca talked of her love of the sea, its turbulent and chaotic nature on a windy day.
Robert expressed his love of the desert, its tranquility and vastness, the myriad of stars to be seen at night.
And so the conversation continued for two hours until Rebecca glancing at her watch said it was time for her to go. Before she left she asked Robert if it was okay for her to return the favour and buy him a coffee next week. He accepted and they agreed to meet at the same place a week from now.
Two souls. Having a conversation. Discussing their dreams and aspirations. Listening to each other.