Horseback riding is not easy. Even though I'm a fairly fit person in and in good physical condition, I have been unable to move for the past two days because of a wild gallop on one of the stupidest horses I've ever been on. Please allow me a completely unnecessary digression to explain why horseback riding is awesome, but really not for everyone.
When you watch a medieval war movie, you never spare the knights a second glance. Sure, they look impressive on their charging horses, armored heavily and slashing left and right with their swords, but that's all. They're just cavalry. Right? Wrong. I've always been intrigued by old societies such as feudal Europe and feudal Egypt (the Egyptian Mamluks, one of whom happened to be my great great grandfather). They always used to hold knights in great esteem, and I never understood why. Essentially they're just soldiers, and I didn't see why they held a rank higher than the other soldiers just because they were on horses.
That gallop made me understand.
Let me paint you a picture: the horse is nervous and tired, and thus unresponsive to your commands. When you pull on the reins it turns with you well enough, but getting it to stop is almost impossible even when you pull viciously on the reins, and if it stops it won't move until it's whipped by its handlers. You wouldn't have these problems with a properly trained horse, but in war all horses instinctively behave similarly. Anyway, the horse is not your only problem; the saddle is extremely uncomfortable and there are bits of iron jutting out on the seat, making you uncomfortable at best and in agony at worst when the horse is moving at a canter, because you keep getting jarred on those steel irregularities as you jump up and down in your seat due to the horse's pace. When it picks up the pace and starts going at full gallop, your only option as a guy who wants to retain his reproductive capabilities is to take a half-seat position where you half-stand up on your stirrups, gripping the horse with your knees and leaning forward so that you're not sitting anymore. But watch out, because when you do that, your lower back usually gets jarred against the steel back-support of the saddle, which will give you nasty bruises. After that, if you're riding a fast horse, it's all you can do to grab the saddle horn and hold on for dear life. The saddle horn is, of course, made of steel and hence raises blisters and bloodies your hand and makes your wrists go sore, but it sure beats falling over and getting trampled by the other horses at your rear. Not only that, but there's an uncomfortable knot in the stirrups that stabs you in your leg repeatedly and you can't remove your leg from the stirrups unless you're fond of painful deaths, and the stirrups themselves are made of steel and they bite painfully into your foot. Moreover, you're forced to match the pace of all the other riders so you don't lag behind, and all the other riders seem to have comfortable saddles as opposed to the medieval torture device you happen to be sitting on, so they gallop at full speed, heedless of your pain and suffering.
Forty five minutes of this made me tired as hell. The effort of sitting in an upright position against the horse's frantic acceleration makes your back muscles scream for mercy, and your wrists, and your biceps, and especially your legs because you're doing a half-stand. The physical toll is considerable; all your muscles are sore, you're walking bow-legged, you're bruised all over and all you want to do is sleep. Imagine doing all of this for hours, while also heavily armored in unyielding steel armor which can cook you alive under a summer noon sun, while also swinging a heavy steel sword and being generally expected to land killing blows every now and then. I get it now, and I have a lot more respect for knights than I used to.
All of this just to say that I'm still sore all over, even though that was two days ago. The gallop was more exhausting than a whole week at the gym; my body seems to say.
But for some reason, as I sit here in the least uncomfortable position I can manage, I started thinking of cheesy stuff. Maybe because I've just watched a particularly cheesy episode of The Office, or because cheese is my default setting. Regardless, it seems to me that -much like horseback riding- people seem to have forgotten how love works. You have TV shows and movies romanticizing the giant gestures such as the cliched racing-to-the-airport-to-confess-undying-love. I'm not going to claim that the value of such gestures is to be completely discounted, but I don't think this is what love is really about.
It's natural to want to be with the person you love, but the feeling is not always mutual. Sometimes the other person does not feel the same way, and you're left with an uncomfortable choice; either to move on or to get even more invested in trying to get them to feel the same way. What I believe is that the latter is childish. Yes, we're not robots and it's perfectly normal for a person to at least try, but usually when it fails we try again, and again, and again, to the point where it's more an obsession than actual feelings. People usually start asking themselves "how do I get her/him to love me" instead of asking important questions, like "how do I make myself a better person and maybe one day they'll see it too". People completely disregard their pride and they get more and more invested to the point where they start resenting themselves for it later when they move on.
Like I said, I feel like this a childish approach to love; the love of a child for a toy he/she just has to have. Possession is not love. I don't like that saying that goes "if you love her let her go, if she never comes back then she was never yours to begin with" because it still implies that you're waiting for her to come back. That, again, is not love. Maybe she's happier when she's not with you... if you really love her, you'd rather she stays happy away from you than than be miserable with you. I know it sounds too holier than thou, and I won't claim to be so selfless myself, but I think it's how everyone should at least try to feel; it's simply the most selfless way to love someone.
Ask yourself this: if there was a way to help someone you love, which would be more important to you; that you help them, or that they know about it? More often than not, the honest answer is "that they know about it", because we seek their approval and we want them to know that we cared enough to help. Think of all the people you think you love, and -in my opinion- only the people where you can honestly answer "that you help them" are truly important to you. Getting someone a job interview without them knowing because they'd be too proud to accept your help if they knew; that's true love. Donating blood to someone without them knowing; that's true love. Even something as simple as wishing that a girl/guy you're in love with is happy -even if it's with someone else- counts for a lot, because they wouldn't know about it and that's what I think is what matters.
For years as a child, I thought my grandma was unbeatable at playing cards because that's what my dad used to say. She used to beat me all the time, and I used to stomp my feet and cry and sulk and to not want to play with her. As the years went by and I got older, and better at playing cards, I started beating her more often and I started wondering why I'd always thought she was so formidable... until one day, when I was spectating a game between her and my dad. He'd always lost to her, and I didn't understand why because when I played him he used to wipe the floor with me. It was only when I looked at his cards and saw him deliberately using the wrong cards and missing out on chances that I understood that he was letting her win, and of course she had no idea. This reputation that she was unbeatable was carefully cultivated just to make her feel adept at something. All he cared about was that she laughed and felt good when she beat him, and that's all that mattered to him.
That, in a nutshell, is what I think love is.
The greatest deeds in love go unrewarded.
When you watch a medieval war movie, you never spare the knights a second glance. Sure, they look impressive on their charging horses, armored heavily and slashing left and right with their swords, but that's all. They're just cavalry. Right? Wrong. I've always been intrigued by old societies such as feudal Europe and feudal Egypt (the Egyptian Mamluks, one of whom happened to be my great great grandfather). They always used to hold knights in great esteem, and I never understood why. Essentially they're just soldiers, and I didn't see why they held a rank higher than the other soldiers just because they were on horses.
That gallop made me understand.
Let me paint you a picture: the horse is nervous and tired, and thus unresponsive to your commands. When you pull on the reins it turns with you well enough, but getting it to stop is almost impossible even when you pull viciously on the reins, and if it stops it won't move until it's whipped by its handlers. You wouldn't have these problems with a properly trained horse, but in war all horses instinctively behave similarly. Anyway, the horse is not your only problem; the saddle is extremely uncomfortable and there are bits of iron jutting out on the seat, making you uncomfortable at best and in agony at worst when the horse is moving at a canter, because you keep getting jarred on those steel irregularities as you jump up and down in your seat due to the horse's pace. When it picks up the pace and starts going at full gallop, your only option as a guy who wants to retain his reproductive capabilities is to take a half-seat position where you half-stand up on your stirrups, gripping the horse with your knees and leaning forward so that you're not sitting anymore. But watch out, because when you do that, your lower back usually gets jarred against the steel back-support of the saddle, which will give you nasty bruises. After that, if you're riding a fast horse, it's all you can do to grab the saddle horn and hold on for dear life. The saddle horn is, of course, made of steel and hence raises blisters and bloodies your hand and makes your wrists go sore, but it sure beats falling over and getting trampled by the other horses at your rear. Not only that, but there's an uncomfortable knot in the stirrups that stabs you in your leg repeatedly and you can't remove your leg from the stirrups unless you're fond of painful deaths, and the stirrups themselves are made of steel and they bite painfully into your foot. Moreover, you're forced to match the pace of all the other riders so you don't lag behind, and all the other riders seem to have comfortable saddles as opposed to the medieval torture device you happen to be sitting on, so they gallop at full speed, heedless of your pain and suffering.
Forty five minutes of this made me tired as hell. The effort of sitting in an upright position against the horse's frantic acceleration makes your back muscles scream for mercy, and your wrists, and your biceps, and especially your legs because you're doing a half-stand. The physical toll is considerable; all your muscles are sore, you're walking bow-legged, you're bruised all over and all you want to do is sleep. Imagine doing all of this for hours, while also heavily armored in unyielding steel armor which can cook you alive under a summer noon sun, while also swinging a heavy steel sword and being generally expected to land killing blows every now and then. I get it now, and I have a lot more respect for knights than I used to.
All of this just to say that I'm still sore all over, even though that was two days ago. The gallop was more exhausting than a whole week at the gym; my body seems to say.
But for some reason, as I sit here in the least uncomfortable position I can manage, I started thinking of cheesy stuff. Maybe because I've just watched a particularly cheesy episode of The Office, or because cheese is my default setting. Regardless, it seems to me that -much like horseback riding- people seem to have forgotten how love works. You have TV shows and movies romanticizing the giant gestures such as the cliched racing-to-the-airport-to-confess-undying-love. I'm not going to claim that the value of such gestures is to be completely discounted, but I don't think this is what love is really about.
It's natural to want to be with the person you love, but the feeling is not always mutual. Sometimes the other person does not feel the same way, and you're left with an uncomfortable choice; either to move on or to get even more invested in trying to get them to feel the same way. What I believe is that the latter is childish. Yes, we're not robots and it's perfectly normal for a person to at least try, but usually when it fails we try again, and again, and again, to the point where it's more an obsession than actual feelings. People usually start asking themselves "how do I get her/him to love me" instead of asking important questions, like "how do I make myself a better person and maybe one day they'll see it too". People completely disregard their pride and they get more and more invested to the point where they start resenting themselves for it later when they move on.
Like I said, I feel like this a childish approach to love; the love of a child for a toy he/she just has to have. Possession is not love. I don't like that saying that goes "if you love her let her go, if she never comes back then she was never yours to begin with" because it still implies that you're waiting for her to come back. That, again, is not love. Maybe she's happier when she's not with you... if you really love her, you'd rather she stays happy away from you than than be miserable with you. I know it sounds too holier than thou, and I won't claim to be so selfless myself, but I think it's how everyone should at least try to feel; it's simply the most selfless way to love someone.
Ask yourself this: if there was a way to help someone you love, which would be more important to you; that you help them, or that they know about it? More often than not, the honest answer is "that they know about it", because we seek their approval and we want them to know that we cared enough to help. Think of all the people you think you love, and -in my opinion- only the people where you can honestly answer "that you help them" are truly important to you. Getting someone a job interview without them knowing because they'd be too proud to accept your help if they knew; that's true love. Donating blood to someone without them knowing; that's true love. Even something as simple as wishing that a girl/guy you're in love with is happy -even if it's with someone else- counts for a lot, because they wouldn't know about it and that's what I think is what matters.
For years as a child, I thought my grandma was unbeatable at playing cards because that's what my dad used to say. She used to beat me all the time, and I used to stomp my feet and cry and sulk and to not want to play with her. As the years went by and I got older, and better at playing cards, I started beating her more often and I started wondering why I'd always thought she was so formidable... until one day, when I was spectating a game between her and my dad. He'd always lost to her, and I didn't understand why because when I played him he used to wipe the floor with me. It was only when I looked at his cards and saw him deliberately using the wrong cards and missing out on chances that I understood that he was letting her win, and of course she had no idea. This reputation that she was unbeatable was carefully cultivated just to make her feel adept at something. All he cared about was that she laughed and felt good when she beat him, and that's all that mattered to him.
That, in a nutshell, is what I think love is.
The greatest deeds in love go unrewarded.
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