The Philosophy Tales – The nature of Love - by Ellese Elliott - Dedicated to Perry Smith

The Philosophy Tales – The nature of Love

Once upon a time, on a wasted beach that had returned wild, a young boy looked upon the sea, solemnly. As the sun appeared to immerse itself in the velvety waters the cold chill of the evening breeze swept the mementos of an inhabited place along the sands and blew his long dark hair across an expression of sadness on his pretty juvenile face.  

The beach seemed to be mostly comprised of bits of plastic, stray trolleys and odd parts of clothing; however you could tell that once it was beautiful.Navigating his way around the remnants of the past he felt a sense of triviality about life and of things, of himself.       Flying scavengers swarmed around him anticipating to eat, ‘and why not’ he thought.

Casting his hand into the debris the boy grasped a handful of history: glass, pebbles, etc.  He threw the pieces into the sea aimlessly, repeating this action a couple of times.  It had become a kind of game. Further and further the formations flew, some skimmed several times before finally going under. But after the third or fourth handful he hesitated to throw one of the objects.  In his hand, cut and grazed by tin and other fragments, he held a smooth large grey rock. 

For some unknown reason he did not want to throw this rock. It was not particularly beautiful, nor did the rock bear any significant characteristics that obviously distinguished it from the other rocks, but the boy took a shine to this rock.  Quite bemused at this unexpected feeling he clutched the rock to his chest, his knees dropped in the sand and he felt joy as he saw the last light of the sun fade. 

‘O rock! I adore you!’ his cheeks rouged.  ‘I cannot explain how and I cannot explain why, but now you are near I feel there is meaning to my life.’  The boy’s heart pulsed deeply in love and his eyes widened as he experienced a paroxysm of ecstasy. He fell in love with the rock; unquestionably in love. 

Placing the rock carefully in his right pocket (as the left bore holes) he walked beyond the beach berm and clambered up onto the street, hungry.  Reality above was chaotic. People bustled past barging carelessly into each other; occupied on their mobiles, distracted by their schedules. Noise polluted the air as much as the gases secreted from the trams and buses while dazzling signs reinforced their endless quests.   Entranced and running in circles, their vessels appeared empty. 

It began to rain. The boy ran across the street blocked up with vehicles. Beeeep, Beeepp, eepppp.  “Get out the way!” a driver yelled. He slipped through a small back road and took refuge under a railway bridge.  It was cold, but at least it was not wet.

Finally they were alone again; just he and his beloved, but then street thugs approached.  Sensing danger he hurriedly got up and tried to walk in the opposite direction.  “Come back here!” one of the street thugs commanded pushing him against the wall. The boy had not seen them coming from both sides.

  'What you got for us rat?'

  'Yeah empty your pockets. Quickly don’t waste time.' the street thugs ordered. 

  'I haven’t got anything.' the boy replied.
  'Don’t back talk!'

Smack! The thugs hit the boy knocking him to the ground.

  'Get back up!'  They frisked him only to find odd bits of metal and his love, the rock. 
  'Hey give me that back. Stop! That is my beloved.' the boy whined.
  'What’s he on about? It’s a rock!' the thugs laughed tossing the rock between them, 

relishing in creating the conditions affecting the boy with misery.
  'How can you love a rock?'

  'Yeah how can you love a rock rat?' the thugs chuckled.

  'I don’t know how, and I don’t know why I just know I do.' he replied.

  The thugs stopped throwing his love. 'But the rock doesn’t love you.  The rock doesn’t love anything. It’s a rock mate. How can you love something that doesn’t love?'

  A philosophical debate had broken out under the most unexpected of circumstances; among the mist of degradation, debauchery and dirt.

  'How do you know the rock does not love me?' the boy argued, 'one cannot know whether one is loved or not.  The rock is no different in that respect to any other. For instance: how do you know your mother loves you?” he elaborated.

  'Hey my mother’s dead you rat. Don’t talk about my-'

  'Calm down Bull.' the other thug interrupted; saving the boy from yet another blow, as he was intrigued by the discussion.

  'What I mean is this: How do you know whether anything loves you?'  the boy asked. 

  'Because they tell you.'

  'Yeah they tell you. The rock can’t chat.' the street thugs chorused illiterately.

  'But people can lie and deceive and be fooled and tricked. Could they not be deceiving you, for their own gain, to please you or to please themselves?' the boy questioned.

  'Well they act like they love you, dumb arse.' the ring leader answered enticed into this debate. 

  'Those who deceive you with their words can also deceive you with their actions,'  the boy’s wit had become faster. 'Words and actions can give us some insight into how one feels, but just because one does not speak or act does not mean we can judge they do not feel .“

  'Huh?  Are you saying this rock could have feelings? You’re mad!' they accused.

  'I am not mad I am in love. Quite simply we can never know if we are loved.  Thus, it cannot be we only love on the basis that we think we are loved or else love would never arise.  It must then follow that love is truly selfless.'

  'You’re wrong!'

  'Yeah!' the thugs argued,

  'And I’m going to prove it!” stated the ring leader. 

So the thugs ran away with the rock and the boy gave chase.

Dodging the people and the vehicles, leaping over barriers and ducking under signs the thugs ran toward the wild beach keyed up and lively. 

The seas had become rough and the winds were strong and the thugs held up the rock and threw it into the watery abyss.

  'Nooooooooo!!!!!' the boy screamed, jumping in after the rock. Splash!

The tides were vicious and the weather was harsh. The street thugs looked on in anticipation, but drew scared as the boys head did not come back above water.  Approximately five minutes had elapsed and he did not surface.

Death by drowning.

  'See boys! I proved it! You can tell if someone loves you. I was right.' the ring leader gloated, laughing off the events passed, 'You can tell the rat loved the rock because he jumped!'

  'What did you prove? One of the thugs argued. 'You have not proved the boy loved the rock and you have not proved that the rock did not have feelings, you have not proved anything! At best you have perhaps strengthened my belief that the boy was mad and now I think you are too for your lack of remorse.'
  'You mean the boy was off his rocker?' the ring leader joked and said, 'It was just a rock and the boy was just a boy.'

The end was just as sombre as the beginning with only a glimpse of elation in-between. Is this the nature of love? 

 The End!

by Ellese Elliott - Dedicated to Perry Smith