Why does a part of us want to destroy what we love?
When I was young and read Macbeth In highschool I was obsessed with humanity’s ‘black and deep desires’, and since growing up I’ve realised they are closely woven with emotions that are positive. Examples of this are the idea that suffering is always an element of desire, that control and love are so linked, and pain brings greater joy. As I’ve become more articulate about the tumble of emotions that reside within me like a thunderstorm, I’ve discovered that destruction is a temptation of love. And I won’t to know why.
(PS I am a big fan of Cheryl Strayed and want her to tell me a life story that will explain this).