I had a thought in my head when I originally wrote this haiku, and it’s usually prompted by certain things, like today (the 42nd anniversary of the assassination of Martin Luther King, Jr.). I especially admire those who step out of line for a positive reason, those who don’t surrender to hateful messages. Rev. King endured harsh criticism not only from those who opposed his goals, but also from those who believed his methods were too meek. It takes a lot of courage to stand between the forces of two powerful extremes, resisting the gravities of both.

I find it interesting that this year the anniversary of King’s passing falls on the same day Christians celebrate Easter, the symbolic anniversary of Jesus rising from the dead. The story of Jesus could be characterized in much the same light; he was known as a rabble rouser by some, but there were others who disliked his message because the change he promised seemed too slow.

Both of them were radicals, but the best kind. They both stood up in the face of threats and spoke truth to power, even when it might have behooved them personally to relent. And they weren’t just radicals for the sake of being different. They both did it for their love of others. They resisted the sort of flailing anger one might observe in certain modern anti-government rallies (or militias), and stood up for something more.

That’s the sort of thought that went into this haiku, and thinking about that again these past few days prompted me to scribble it down for my handwritten collection.

(one might also blame Fred Clark for pushing me over the edge on this one, as he wrote a fine piece yesterday that touches on some of the same subject matter)

when we are defined
more by our hate than our love,
everything shrinks

Comments

• April 4, 2010, susan writes: Howard,
  
  Every time I think you have written the most beautiful haiku, and topped yourself, you up the ante and top yourself again. This one took my breath away.
  
  Happy Easter.
• April 8, 2010, howard writes: i've been a bit disconnected the past few days, but thank you for the Easter wishes, Susan. i had a pretty good one.
  
  to be honest, this isn't brand new, but it is one of my favorites. so rarely do i stumble across a thought that both flows well and seems generally true.

what is love to you —
a renewable resource
or finite supply?

Comments

• April 3, 2010, apreziosi writes: what i'd like to know,
  is a store where i could buy
  an odwalla bar.
  
  :)
• April 3, 2010, susan writes: This was beautiful. I don't know but renewable. Yes,renewable. How else do I explain my parents have been married for 55 years?
  
  What is an odwalla bar?
• April 4, 2010, howard writes: Anthony - totally off point, but thanks for the heads up on Wawa having them. i picked up a few, but i thought there'd be some place that sells them cheaper (everything else in that section at the Wawa is available at regular stores, and usually for less).
  
  Susan - i think so too, at least when practiced correctly, which it so rarely is. and what is an Odwalla bar? only my new favorite snack...
• April 4, 2010, mikaelah writes: infinate. totally.

I originally wrote a version of the above haiku a long while ago. This one’s different only in that I’ve changed two words (actually, just the same word changed twice) — and I’ve put it in handwriting (because that’s what I do these days).

As you might suspect, this haiku was born of heartbreak — something I’ve experienced once or twice in my life. Unlike some of the more useless poetry I’ve spawned, this one harbors what I consider to be one of the most important lessons I’ve learned about love (or being “in” it).

For those unaware of my opinions on this matter, I think loving and being in love are opposites. Which isn’t to say you can’t feel like you’re in love with someone you actually love, but rather that the two come from different places. Love comes from a willingness to sacrifice. In love comes from a desire for pleasure or gratification. One is unselfish. The other is all about self, even if it coincidentally benefits another person.

For me, some of the most intense pain has come not from missing other people or the feelings they cultivated in me, but from realizing how I might have gotten in the way of their happiness by only focusing on mine. And my failures have reached far beyond the merely romantic.

It’s an easy lesson to forget when you’re gripped by the throes of being in love, but it’s vital to remember if you aspire to actual love.

In the end I’m just glad most of my victims seem to have recovered, and I hope to not have too many more victims along the way.

*
wanting you happy
was always more important
than just wanting you

(a slightly different version of this one resides in the book)

Comments

• February 14, 2010,  (non-breaking space) | a little credit writes: [...] I noticed one of the haiku I wrote a couple years ago (and scribbled for a handwritten post last year) was getting a noticeable amount of unattributed notoriety on various social networking [...]

I wrote this thinking of a specific personal relationship. By the time I got around to posting it here, I realized it was a bit more universal, as people who know me well can easily attest.

I have this bad habit of seeming overly confident in certain situations. Whether or not the confidence is warranted, I have a way of coming across in a way that makes some people feel like I’m talking down to them, as if they are inferior. For reasons of my own background that I won’t drag up again, this is often the opposite of how I really feel about the people around me. I know how it is to be looked down upon, and I despise the fact that I have ever given others (especially people I care about) cause to feel that way.

of all the rules of love I have transgressed,
I hate that I have made you feel like less.