Animal Love

In blathering to Patti the other day I tried to articulate the possible reasons for this:

• they are more interesting than most people (perhaps I think so because I’m currently infatuated with play and they’re so much better at that than humans)
• they’re more authentic, more accepting, more elegant, more fit, more fun, less judgemental, less needy, less expectant, less moody, more attentive to everything, more graceful, more ‘present’
• they are comforting
• they don’t insist on conversation…you can enjoy their company wordlessly
• they are more beautiful, mostly, than humans

Of course, they don’t converse very well, at least not using spoken language. That doesn’t prevent them from communicating effectively, though, if you pay attention.

That might seem to be reason enough for what some see as my misanthropy. After all, instead of having to put up with people’s expectations, pre-judgements, and mostly uninteresting conversations, you can instead spend your time with beautiful creatures who (seem to) enjoy your attention and companionship even if you are ugly and incoherent.

But I confess there may be another reason on top of all these. I am, at heart, lazy. I don’t like to work hard, and my observations of nature suggest to me that this isn’t unusual among wild creatures, or particularly shameful. The delightful moments I spend with wild creatures are easy, carefree times.
At the same time, I can listen to the human conversation in the next room without the requirement of contributing to it, and observe people without being distracted by what I am going to say to them.

Yet I do love conversation with, and the company of, some people. I have a tendency to browse crowds for people with certain capacities — five in particular: 

1. exceptional intelligence, 
2. great emotional strength (and self-knowledge), 
3. deep emotional sensitivity (and perceptiveness), 
4. articulateness (extraordinary ability to communicate or self-express orally, in writing, or non-verbally through art or some other medium), and 
5. great imagination (or creativity).

When I find people with some of these qualities, I tend to corner them (or dance them outside) for one-on-one conversations. When I don’t find anyone with these qualities, I get discouraged and seek out any (resident-or-nearby) non-humans (the family pets, or the birds outside). So, put simply, I tend to love the company of (a) a few extraordinarily profound and stimulating humans and (b) most wilder creatures, thanks to their innate presence and grace.

At an earlier stage of life I would have added exceptional physical beauty to the list of qualities above. I’m still very much attracted to such people, but I’ve discovered (limited data, I confess) that they rarely seem to have any of the other five qualities (possibly because they don’t need them). As a result, I’ve found it more amusing to observe them from a distance than to try to engage them in conversation. I imagine they would make wonderful sexual partners, but I expect I’m too lazy to find out.

I have often said that we love who we imagine others to be, and not who they really are, because, after all, we can never really know who other people are (my recently-divorced friends in particular tell me this). So it is possible that I am subconsciously exaggerating (or even inventing) the qualities of people who I find lovable, and under-estimating those qualities in people I do not, and imagining wilder creatures to be more complex, present and graceful than they really are. I suspect I am not alone in this, and that while other people’s “top 5 desired qualities” lists undoubtedly vary (great bod, good sense of humour, attentiveness, generosity, appreciation and good personal hygiene would probably be on many), most people probably imagine the objects of their affection to be other, and more, than who they really are. How else can we explain the desire of so many women to “improve” their men (make them more who they imagined them to be before they got to know them better), and the propensity of so many men to avoid any meaningful conversation with their partners that might shatter their illusions?

The lessons for me, I think, are obvious. I need to be more open to the qualities of every human I meet, less judgemental (though I am getting better at this, except when my usually-accurate instincts get in the way), more attentive, and less carried away by my imagination. If I were to do this, I might find almost everyone lovable, and that would certainly make me more appreciative, more positive, more optimistic, better company (for most), and more present. I might possibly learn to be humble, or even graceful.

I am going to practice this. Perhaps it is the approaching winter, but of late I am more preoccupied with the search to find the place where I belong (I am starting to believe it is even more important to find this place than to find the people I belong with), and settle down with whatever lovable people I can find there or attract to that place. If I really want to create a Natural Intentional Community it may be time for me to just start, instead of being preoccupied with its ideals and principles and purpose.

The people in the Gravitational Community list in the right sidebar are mostly people I can imagine living in community with. I can picture what their (your) chosen roles might be, based on what each of them (you) do so well, and seem to love doing. I can imagine nothing more joyful, or more important, than us doing this together, purposefully, collaboratively, lovingly, helping each other out to be who we really are, to be who we are intended to be, showing the world that there is a better way.

My wild animal friends seem to have figured this all out. Start with finding the right place, the place you belong. Then find the right fellow-creatures to love and live with and make a living with, and herd them to that place. The rest — what to do, how to get along, how and who to be — is all collectively self-managed, and should work itself out naturally.
Worth a try, anyway.