To every thing there is a season...

Not long ago, one of my favorite authors disappeared. I don't know why, but it seemed like he just dropped off the face of the earth.

He had a terrific imagination, inventing new worlds and social structures in a kind of Utopian frenzy. His stories always carried a thread of sadness, however.

Usually, the protagonist was on the wrong end of a sour relationship, and had been for many years. The effect of this was that the protagonist's needs were rarely, if ever, met, by the significant other in the relationship, and the story would always have a sub-plot in which either the significant other admitted responsibility for the problem, and undertook to correct it, or the protagonist formed one or more new relationships, leaving the defective one behind.

Authors write about what they know, either from their own experience, or from the experiences of those with whom they associate. Sure, they throw in imagination and inventiveness to make a story exciting and interesting, but the feelings and situations, as another of my favorites put it "have to come from somewhere!"

It has also been said that a certain amount of misery is required in order to spawn the creative process. Taken together, these ideas would imply that my missing author, in all probability, actually lived the misery that his protagonists felt. It may be that his sudden disappearance is a sign that the misery has stopped, and so the creative juices have also stopped. As much as I liked his writing, I hope that that is the reason, and not something more unpleasant.

Coincidentally, a bachelor friend of mine who shall remain nameless participated, for awhile, in a relationship with a beautiful woman. Everyone thought that they were well-matched, and that the logical conclusion to their situation would be marriage. It didn't work out that way, though, and we were all mystified.

When queried about it, my friend said, "I had to do all of the work in nurturing the relationship. She made it all my responsibility." The load was too heavy not to be shared, so the relationship failed.

Subsequently, my friend met and formed yet another relationship, with another beautiful woman, and ultimately they were wed. Both people in that relationship took responsibility for nurturing it, so it succeeded.

Why am I writing this, you ask? It's pretty simple, actually. I had an epiphany a few days ago. I realized that I've been trying to bear the entire load of keeping some long-term relationships going, and that I don't have the strength for it any more.

Life is full of changes. When change stops, life stops. People are born, raised, educated, employed, and married. Along the way, they form relationships with parents, siblings, lovers, teachers, bosses, co-workers, and spouses. Some of these relationships continue for a lifetime, some are a flash in the pan, and most lie between the two extremes. The dynamic of any relationship is that, in order to grow and flourish, it must be nurtured by both parties, regardless of environmental factors. If a change in the environment is sufficient for either party to abrogate that responsibility, then the relationship was too weak to continue anyway, and it will wither and fade. One person can't do it all.

My life changed on October 1, 2007, but I had hoped to continue, and to improve upon the relationships I had with those of my co-workers that I called friends, but I can't do it by myself.

Mariner