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"Why do you do it? All that work for polyamory, why not just be satisfied with one relationship?"
When people ask me, why do I bother with all the work involved, i usually answer something about how we're driven, as a species, to build relationships. Everyone does. Polyamory is just one way among many to do that. But today I heard a story that I think illustrates what I mean.
Aron Ralston was a young man, active, a thrill-seeker, free-climber. One day he took off for some canyons in Utah, in as remote a place as still exists on this planet. He set off alone. He didn't tell anyone.
As he was climbing those remote canyon walls, a small boulder he was standing on gave way and they both dropped into the crevice until they reached a narrow enough spot that the boulder wedged itself, trapping his right hand, and therefore him.
He remained in that canyon for 6 days, with no help in sight. He finally realized that he was going to die, that this canyon would be his grave.
So he pulled out his camera and recorded the first of several goodbye messages. He spoke to his parents, his friends, everyone he loved, and he told them how much he loved them and how much he appreciated them. Then he made the decision that ultimately led to his story being told. He pulled out his Leatherman and cut off his own right hand.
There's more to his remarkable escape, but you can see it for yourself in the movie 127 Hours, made based on his story and his tapes. The reason I tell his story now is because I saw this young man speak at work today. I'm watching him speak right now as I write this journal entry. I'm sure the movie will be touching, but I heard him tell his own story from his own mouth. I watched him re-live his last message to his mother.
Aron stands on that stage and tells us how, when he was facing his last moments on Earth, when he was saying goodbye to the world, that what he thought about was not his achievements, his accomplishments, the things he had done. When he was reviewing his life for the last time, what he thought about was his relationships. He thought about the people he loved.
The tagline for the movie is "there is nothing greater than the will to live." As he stood before us, telling his story, he said "I don't think that's true. I think there is one thing greater than the will to live. And that's the will to love."
Aron showed us pictures of his parents, of he and his friends going hiking, going whitewater rafting, hanging out. He showed us a picture of him, minus his right hand, standing next to his buddy, and said "I wasn't just hiking and my friend happened to be there. I was with my friend, and we happened to be hiking." He told us of how his experience made him leap for life, made him live every moment he had, and what made his life worth living, what made him grasp for life with every fiber in his being, were the relationships he had. He then showed us a picture of his infant and told us that this is worth living for and this is worth leaving his hand for. He says he didn't lose anything in that canyon. He left his hand behind, but he gained so much more in the realization that the will to love is what was behind his will to live, and that it was his relationships that made life worth living.
That's why I'm polyamorous and that's why I go through the effort. Because equal or greater than the will to live is the will to love.
When people ask me, why do I bother with all the work involved, i usually answer something about how we're driven, as a species, to build relationships. Everyone does. Polyamory is just one way among many to do that. But today I heard a story that I think illustrates what I mean.
Aron Ralston was a young man, active, a thrill-seeker, free-climber. One day he took off for some canyons in Utah, in as remote a place as still exists on this planet. He set off alone. He didn't tell anyone.
As he was climbing those remote canyon walls, a small boulder he was standing on gave way and they both dropped into the crevice until they reached a narrow enough spot that the boulder wedged itself, trapping his right hand, and therefore him.
He remained in that canyon for 6 days, with no help in sight. He finally realized that he was going to die, that this canyon would be his grave.
So he pulled out his camera and recorded the first of several goodbye messages. He spoke to his parents, his friends, everyone he loved, and he told them how much he loved them and how much he appreciated them. Then he made the decision that ultimately led to his story being told. He pulled out his Leatherman and cut off his own right hand.
There's more to his remarkable escape, but you can see it for yourself in the movie 127 Hours, made based on his story and his tapes. The reason I tell his story now is because I saw this young man speak at work today. I'm watching him speak right now as I write this journal entry. I'm sure the movie will be touching, but I heard him tell his own story from his own mouth. I watched him re-live his last message to his mother.
Aron stands on that stage and tells us how, when he was facing his last moments on Earth, when he was saying goodbye to the world, that what he thought about was not his achievements, his accomplishments, the things he had done. When he was reviewing his life for the last time, what he thought about was his relationships. He thought about the people he loved.
The tagline for the movie is "there is nothing greater than the will to live." As he stood before us, telling his story, he said "I don't think that's true. I think there is one thing greater than the will to live. And that's the will to love."
Aron showed us pictures of his parents, of he and his friends going hiking, going whitewater rafting, hanging out. He showed us a picture of him, minus his right hand, standing next to his buddy, and said "I wasn't just hiking and my friend happened to be there. I was with my friend, and we happened to be hiking." He told us of how his experience made him leap for life, made him live every moment he had, and what made his life worth living, what made him grasp for life with every fiber in his being, were the relationships he had. He then showed us a picture of his infant and told us that this is worth living for and this is worth leaving his hand for. He says he didn't lose anything in that canyon. He left his hand behind, but he gained so much more in the realization that the will to love is what was behind his will to live, and that it was his relationships that made life worth living.
That's why I'm polyamorous and that's why I go through the effort. Because equal or greater than the will to live is the will to love.
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I needed to hear this
Date: 2/11/12 06:51 pm (UTC)From:I needed to hear this today. Thank you.
no subject
Date: 3/15/12 06:32 am (UTC)From: