Against the Robots

Why do we think it's easy to have a family?
We think it's easy what is natural.
Yet, the sense of what is natural has evaporated by forgetting its law.
So it is with love.
Love is born of law,
it dies when it is trampled underfoot.
Love perishes under the blows of anarchy,
which confuses and conceals love.
Love takes on other guises.
How can we believe that it is enough to give in to an emotion to love?
That is no longer love,
but we continue to call it that, as if to convince ourselves otherwise.
How can we accept resentment, weariness, betrayal, frustration?
The procession that follows emotion.
Why don't we know how to love?
Because love is not an emotion.
We no longer know how to look, how to feel, how to live.
And above all, we don't know how to pray:
to be with ourselves, and even more.
And we must pray a great deal to love.
We are constantly becoming that winged figure turned "clumsy and weak."
People without a soul have no family.
To have a family is to unite one's soul.
It is the soul that gathers strength.
It is the soul that possesses intelligence.
It is the soul that discerns the path to follow in times of crisis.
People without a soul struggle like invalids.
Who has no soul?
All those, and there are many, who have buried it, laid it to rest, sold it off, and snatched it away.
It was once believed that disdain for the inner life caused the absence of a soul…
The stifling of the soul ransoms everything that belongs to it, including the inner life.
Like a person swallowed by an abyss, trying to survive, clinging to anything within reach.
We suffer greatly from family.
It doesn't lead in the way we hoped.
It sails merrily in the opposite direction.
We repeatedly seek refuge in the same anger,
which possesses, bewitches, and disrupts.
Emotion possesses and alters the connection to the soul.
It inflames the heart, strips it bare, and leaves it alone, stranded on its own shore.
It tries to play its earthly part, agitated by emotion, subject to its upheavals.
It finds itself deceived, battered, and broken.
This is how so many illnesses are attributed to it.
The heart interprets the soul.
They are often confused.
The heart brushes against the soul and understands that it protects a treasure,
and falls back into the mire of a daily life full of resentment.
People who no longer have a soul cannot build a family.
The soul must be loved to live.
The soul is overflowing with so much strength and such fragility.
Without love, it withers and becomes numb.
It dwindles and, discreet, fades into obscurity.
It makes a point of not disturbing anything.
Does the soul disappear from lack of love, or does lack of love lead to its demise?
Families tear each other apart until their souls unite.
They learn to love by discovering their souls and letting them brush against one another.
Only surrender allows for this madness.
Love expresses itself in this delicacy and this fleetingness.
It is always something to be earned and is renewed by its use.
Evanescent, like the human condition,
dreaming of a better world.
Compelling us, through its singularity and elegance, like no other.
To brush against one's soul is to love it madly and to lose it and to love it madly again…
We live with these stains of our failings toward our families.
They melt away before love like snow in the sun.