Unrequited

The first word I have chosen from Consolations, by David Whyte: "unrequited." "Unrequited" is an unusual and unanticipated word, not at all what one would expect within a book of consolations. Yet its discussion is, in fact, consoling.
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I have long thought that all love is unrequited.  In fact, in the book I am writing -- which I will likely never finish, for it does not have a happy ending and may thus be too sad to complete -- has a paragraph on this very topic. The question I have had is as follows: given that certainly people love, to the very best and utmost of their ability -- why does love so often have unrequited undertones? Consolations has provided the answer in the form of its own questions:

Every man or woman loves differently and uniquely and each of us holds different dreams and hopes and falls in love or is the object of love at a very specific threshold in a very particular life where very, very particular qualities are needed for the next few years of our existence.  What other human being could ever love us as we need to be loved?  And whom could we know so well and so intimately through all the twists and turns of a given life that we could show them exactly, the continuous and appropriate form of affection they need? 

Ah. That, I understand.

Yet, rather than despair in the face of unrequited love, we are instead called to love further:

We seem to have been born into a world where love, except for brilliant, exceptional moments, seems to exist from one side only, ours - and that may be the difficulty and the revelation and the gift - to see love as the ultimate letting go and through the doorway of that affection, make the most difficult sacrifice of all, giving away the very thing we want to hold forever.

This is a tremendous undertaking. Can we heed the call?

Picture copyright 2015, Mediocria Firma. Used with gratitude.