interlude ~ about choices

~EDIT: it occurs to me that this discussion, which man has conducted with himself for centuries, about free will and determinism, really hinges upon one's thought (and hence, personality), patterns, as well as one's philosophical point-of-view. The issue of free will, how much choice we have, and how much of our existence relies on the pre-destinated ... it's an issue which Thornton Wilder attempted to tackle in one of his most famous works.

So whether you take a more catholic philosophical perspective, or a calvinist one, will really influence your opinion with respect to the notion that humans have free will versus whether we exist in an entirely predetermined realm. Remember, also, that if you subscribe to the notion of kharma, then you implicitly subscribe to the notion of choice. Kharma makes no sense when superimposed upon predeterminism. Consider the notion that free will and determinism can co-exist: click here ... and here~

I have given Dante a break, just for this one post, to write about choice. Luxie wrote a post about choices ... and the notion of happiness as a choice. Susan also recently wrote a post about choice ~ the choice of love ~ using the story of Eurydice and Orpheus. Given my current reading material - Dante - I am swimming in thoughts about free will, intellect, and choice. And what it all means to life and living.

Susan's post, in particular, led me to ask, do we choose love or does love choose us? The discovery that many, many people believe themselves impotent to a mighty force called love ~ met with my surprise. The notion of choice seems so clear and obvious to me. How can we have intellect and reason, and not have choice? Do we only consider it a choice, when the alternatives seem pleasant and agreeable to our eyes, and hearts?



I have trouble conceiving of love as something which compels us to act. Can we really call this love? Perhaps we should name that sensation desperation. Desperation at the realization that we cannot impose our will ~ our desires ~ upon the will of the universe? Do we fail to see a choice as a choice, simply because the alternatives presented us seem less than optimal, or downright repugnant? Would we rather tell ourselves we have no choice, because we loathe the pain of letting go (which, in some cases may present itself as one of the alternatives)? The notion that we have no choice seems somewhat hedonistic, from my perspective. Whomever said anything about living pain free? Or making pain-free choices?

The most painful choice one makes, I think, involves choosing against making a choice ~ I call it the cowardly escape. I wrote a poem, more than a year ago, in which I reflected upon a relationship I had with a destructive man many years ago. I had given my feelings for this man so much power ... I felt like this ...

it caught her and ravaged her ...
the same way a leg hold trap
ravages a wolf's unsuspecting leg.
her young, tender soul
could not escape its grip.

I think we give carnal/corporeal love too much power. And, when seized by the feeling, we fail to consider the full ramifications of doing so. I allowed myself to feel for this man, despite knowing and feeling he was no good for me. I recall the juncture, in fact, at which I felt myself making the choice. It felt like taking a drug ... and I felt the same sensation of I have no choice ... in fact, what makes me think it wasn't love is that I do have love now, and its nothing like that ... and that the destructive thing of the past, that thing felt more like relief from withdrawal ~ i.e getting that next hit of one's drug of choice ~ than the warm embrace of love.


The creator has set things in motion ~ we happen to be those things in motion. Free will means we choose ~ who enters our lives, who stays, for how long, and to whom we cleave. For all of us. However ... the alternatives presented us may not seem optimal to us ... and so we tell ourselves we have no choice ... when in fact, we do. Regardless if we like to options laid out before us ... we do, indeed, have a choice. We find the notion that we have no choice ... easier to stomach. Both for us ... and for the object of our affection. Why? I suppose then, we can delude ourselves into believing we should not bear any responsibility for the choice - explicit or implicit - we made. For, if someone or some force indeed compels us to act, then, we cannot really assume responsibility for our own acts, can we?

So ... do we choose love? Or does love choose us? If indeed, we have no choice then the notion of fidelity really seems illusory. I mean, how can we reconcile this powerful, compelling force we have here labelled love with the notion of faithfullness and fidelity? If we, indeed, have no choice, how do we differ from that pack of rabbits or dogs, who act purely on instinct? If they could speak, they would tell us they had no choice, that they were only acting as nature intended. Wouldn't they?

Like it or not, we all expect fidelity in our "carnal love" relationships. We see ourselves, perhaps, as having no choice, but somehow attribute the capacity of choice to the object of our affection, from whom we expect fidelity. Do you doubt this? Then, dear reader, ponder, how you would feel if your partner loved another and you found out about it ... and then, when confronted replied, 'I had no choice.' Despite our attempts at shirking the responsibilities of living, we still must account. And when it comes to love, that undoubtedly means fidelity. and, when said fidelity gets challenged, we grow quite angry, despondent, sorrow-filled, and enraged.

So .... at the risk of nauseating repetition, I ask again. Do we choose love, or does love choose us? Out of my experiences, my heart tells me, YES. I CHOOSE. AND I MUST LIVE WITH THOSE CHOICES. Still, that's a difficult and painful reality to grasp. Our finitude, in the darkest of hours, however, prevents us from fully seeing that choices always lies in our grasp. Our vision does not reach that far. Particularly when anguish presents itself as one of the options ~ as the only alternative to what we perceive as love. We, perhaps, tell ourselves we have no choice because we fear the anguish. Its easier to think of that way. Its easier to live with that way.

As for love ~ its so mighty and mysterious, residing on the sacred convergence of the biochemical and the spiritual. I wonder if we really know the face of love. In some respects, I think we don't ~ for many of us see love as a tool for our own happiness. And not a path to some higher meaning.

For those of you who have not read Dante, you may not see his heavy influence in this post. For those that have ... forgive me. I have, perhaps, failed to give him the rest I promised at the beginning of this post. Still, he's there. Just like the face of choice. Saving the one you love most from taking his own life makes one painfully aware of the fact that choice ALWAYS lies within our grasp.

I've decided, also, that much of the dismal state of the world has a direct relation to the illusion we've concocted that we have no choice. That's why I see this as so important.

I, for one, tire of hearing that cop-out: 'But, I had no choice.'