Back to where the love goes

I mentioned yesterday we had gone to see a matinee. We saw Jane Eyre. I know what you’re thinking, but really, I didn’t drag Mike there, it was actually his idea. He remembered I had mentioned at some point I wanted to see it and suggested we go. Ahhh, yes, this is where we all say how sweet we think he is 😉 and yes, he is VERY sweet.

I warned him though, this movie (alla Jane Austin) might just not be his cup of tea, and although he was a great sport, I really think it wasn’t. At the end of the movie he said “Next time, I pick!” 🙂

In any case, what I wanted to share here is not how sweet Mike is, or the fact that for some reason, the quality of the picture wasn’t great at all, but more so my impressions of the story.

What struck me, as in most period movies, was the love story. The all or nothingness of the relationships and the emotions that develop among the main characters. Why doesn’t this happen now? Did it actually happen then? Or are we just lead to believe so?

Lately, I feel like I am surrounded by people getting divorces and it saddeness me. A divorce, in and of itself, is demoralizing for me, but the fact that the love ends, that people change so much they rather leave, than stay and fight for the relationship and make it work, is dishartening to me. Where does the love go? Why can’t it last a life time?

I realize some people marry the wrong person to begin with. I realize some people get married for the wrong reasons, and if so, they are better off taking separate paths. But for those who I know married in love, thinking it would last forever, where does the love go? How do they become this person that walks away?

In Jane’s story, even though she is very young, it is evident that it is this guy, the guy, her guy, or no one else. It’s like once she fell in love with him, no one else counted, matter, or even existed. Where is that kind of love now? If it did exist, once upon a time, how did we lose it? Why is it that love seems so replaceable now, so temporary, so ephemeral? How can we get that kind of love, the one that lasts a life time, and maybe even beyond, back? How do we go back? Is there a place that we can go back to?

I sometimes wish I was born in the 1800s, for some reason, the romantic side of me, thinks it would be much simpler and easier then. It is at those times, I think, when I walk into a restroom and catch a glance of myself in the mirror and suddenly do not recognize me. It’s those times when I think, for a second, I’m living someone else’s life. Have you ever gotten this feeling? Do you ever feel like this is not the era, the time, in which you belong? A little strange, I know, but it does happen to me from time to time, and movies like Jane Eyre, bring that type of feeling back. That nostalgic feeling of another time I have glimses of memories of, but in which I do not live. Does this happen to you? Do you, can you go back?


3 responses to “Back to where the love goes

  1. Oh man, what a good question: where does the love go?
    Relationships can be tough and they can change and it takes two very strong, committed people to navigate all the deep waters of marriage.

    • Strength and commitment… yep, very much needed to make things last. I just wonder sometimes, how can deep feelings of love change so drastically over time?

  2. I think in those times love was just as hard as it is now…just people had to shut up and make do with what or who they got. Love like Jane Eyre found really didn’t happen very often – most people were together and married with people as more of a business transaction.
    Also remember those stories were written by sisters (the Bronte’s) who all died young and tragically, and as spinsters if I remember rightly – very idealised view of love they had!
    I agree though that it’s sad people don’t work at love more – all the ‘get out clauses’ certainly haven’t helped love endure or be worked through, or worked at. That is a bit sad. While love shouldn’t be idealised too much, it makes it unrealistic, it also shouldn’t be dropped at the first sign of trouble.

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