Gentle on my mind
The love that binds
The daunting feeling that comes with unrequited love parallels the perplexing, confusing, state of utter discordance that one goes thru when faced with the realization that aside from being un-loved, one is also un-noticed by one's object of affection and desire. Daunting (as opposed to haunting) desires are never easy and from a contemplative perspective, the push and pull of really going all the way out to shout one's feelings to the world, could exact a very high price indeed on one's psyche.
The process of sorting out the path to take, when confronted with a crossroad that offers no clear sign posts, could only be described as gut-wrenching. To the extent that the gut is wired to the brain vagally, its response to what is happening further down below it could be discomfiting.
One could then logically decide that one's love object is not worth the tachycardic and peristaltic effect of an adrenaline rush that goes with throwing caution to the wind. The next hesitant step comes with the contextualization of that very familiar refrain: "familiarity breeds contempt". Contempt is never far from love. When familiarity starts rearing its ugly head, contempt eventually bubbles to the surface and turns love into alienation.
Alienation, however. must not be allowed to turn into despondency. However severe the psychical and physical turmoil that one goes through an unrequited love experience, the dis-connected-disappointed feeling resulting from it typically does not last longer or cut deeper than what one would get if let us say, one was not hired by a prospective employer, or one's first novel was not accepted by a publisher. As with almost anything related to human interaction or to human affairs, one can never be so lost in the fog of irrelevancy, as to imagine that life ends right there. It can be life-changing, but not life-ending.
The sudden or gradual transition from being in love to being dismissive and un-caring is not as simple or clear cut or atraumatic as the preceeding paragraphs would suggest. The mind does go through phases, from congruent introspection to convoluted incomprehension, to crushing decompression , and whatever else one may add to these in between. In the end, one hopes that "Gentle on my mind" is not just the title of a song that one remembers, Glen Campbell used to sing about, but also a phrase that one can hang on to, even when love and all that implies, fails to beckon and kindle.