October 7: Atoms and Molecules, Scarecrow, Algebra of the Heart

The Heart of Gold fled on silently through the night of space, now on conventional photon drive.  Its crew of four were ill at ease knowing that they had been brought together not of their own volition or by simple coincidence, but by some curious perversion of physics--as if relationships between people were susceptible to the same laws that governed relationships between atoms and molecules.

In some ways, I think that life would be so much easier if relationships between people were governed by the laws of physics.  It would save me (and millions of others) from a lot of sleepless nights.  If love were simply a matter of valences and formulas, the problems of my life could be solved almost algebraically.  It would be as simple as understanding a² + b² = c².  (For those of you uncomfortable with scientific or mathematical equations, I am saying that if life/love were as predictable as the Pythagorean theorem, it would be really easy to avoid heartbreak.)

Of course, it isn't quite that simple.  The Scarecrow learned that in The Wizard of Oz.  Even though he got his brain, he still couldn't figure out how not to be heartbroken when Dorothy left.  What I'm saying here is not very earth-shattering, but I think people tend to forget it, especially if they've been in long-term relationships for quite some time.  After 25 or 30 or 40 years, love can be taken for granted, until love climbs into the basket of an air balloon and disappears into the sky forever.

The love my wife and I share has been complicated by a lot of things--mental illness, addiction, and all the messy things that accompany mental illness and addiction.  If I were talking mathematically, I would say that a lot of unknown variables have entered the equation of our lives.  And, as of this night, I am still trying to figure out the value of those variables.  Solve the equation of our marriage, so to speak.

It's too late right now for me to fiddle around with the x and y and a and b and z (and probably quite a few other letters) of my relationship with my wife.  I'm tired, and the math simply makes me more tired.  What I want you to take away from this post is that the heart has its own algebra, and no mathematician has been able to figure out its rules.  Because they're transitive and associative and communicative all at once.

So, go with what the Beatles said, if you want:  "All you need is love."

Or Bette Midler:  "Some say love, it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed."

Or Robert Palmer:  "Might as well face it, you're addicted to love."

Or go with what Saint Marty says:  Love can ruin and save your life at the same time.