LET US LOVE ONE ANOTHER
by Andrew Williams

I write today of a man who could turn human speech into birdsong. I write
today of a man who was born with the 19th century name of Edward Hamilton
Waldo but became known to science fiction and other literary habitues as
Theodore Sturgeon--Ted. He was a machinist, a poet, a lover and a man who
wrote about love with every fiber of his being.

When your life's been shipwrecked, and you find yourself drifting on the
salted ocean or alone on an island or islet with no comforts and no love,
every pleasant memory or soothing thought becomes a balm to make possible
the next day and the day after that. Ever since the disastrous breakup
between me and my "friend"--she who was more than my friend and almost my
lover--I have walked this world like Hamlet's father's ghost, "doomed for
a certain time to walk the night, And for the day confined to fast in
fires, Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature/Are burnt and purged
away." OK, melodrama: in great pain and anguish, everything's exaggerated.
You don't want to know what inflated level of symbolism a burnt bagel can
take on in such a state.

Anyway, there are three things that have gotten me through this storm and
its stress: the symphonies of Gustav Mahler, the songs of Peter Gabriel
and the stories of Theodore Sturgeon. Music is a subtler and kinder means
of communication than words--it can carry a greater signal load, so to
speak--but Ted Sturgeon could make words sing. Such ability denotes far
more than craftsmanship: we are dipping our toes in the realm of magic,
here. It is as if the great Sufi poet Rumi reincarnated as Sturgeon in
order to spread his nets of love yet again because, as the French novelist
Andre Gide wrote, "everything that can be said has been said, but we have
to say it again because no one was listening."

Anyone who has lived any significant amount of time on our Earth world
home knows it's far, far easier to hate than love. When someone promises
to call, and days and weeks go by without word, hate can take hold. When
someone makes a promise to be there for you, and then fails to show or
explain why, hate can grow. And these are only the simplest ways in which
hate can come between individuals. Whereas personal enemies have a history
of mere years, hate between nations, religions and ethnicities can trace
back centuries--as if nothing had happened in intervening years to wipe
the palimpsest. We are temporal beings; we measure time by remembered
pains and pleasures; we are quick to wound, slow to heal and far slower to
forgive--even slower to forgive ourselves. And a man who can't forgive
himself is in no condition to forgive others. So the songs of love must be
repeated again and again, for our wounds and slights cling tenaciously.
"Nothing fades as fast as the future/nothing clings like the past/until
you ca
n see/more than this." So sings Peter Gabriel on his new album.

The "more than this" can have many names, but love suits our immediate
purpose. As surely as we remember slights, insults, taunts and the whole
range and repetoire of verbal wounds we've received and given, we can also
access those moments when we were at one with life. Sometimes we need
guides to remind us that not only did such moments occur, we can bring
them forth at our bidding. Guides like Mahler, Gabriel and Ted Sturgeon.

What magic was it that Ted Sturgeon brought to words and worlds? If I
could tell you, then I could also tell you exactly what it feels like when
you hold your beloved's hand and look in her eyes. I could tell you in
chapter and verse the wonder you felt when you first saw a fireworks or
meteor shower. What I can tell you is how he affected me: *he reached into
my soul.* He laid bare my wounds and brought alcohol to cleanse them and
balms to soothe them. He didn't heal me--that's my ongoing Job One, just
as it should be--but he showed me that healing, forgiveness and love are
always possible, under any conditions. If you hate someone, that is only a
negative reflection of your love and care for them. You can't hate what
you don't love.

The beauty of Sturgeon's words is such that they can penetrate even the
flintiest hide, the most encircled heart. Anyone who can't be reached by
him--well, I don't believe much in hopeless cases anymore, but such a
person would test my faith.

We live in a time where, it seems, love is in greatest need and in
shortest supply. So we can no longer reserve it for holidays, birthdays
and other special occasions when lovingkindness is expected to flow. We
can bring love to bear in every aspect of our everyday lives. A touch of
the hand, a special loving look, or simply listening to someone without
interruption or judgment. These are gifts greater than any PlayStation.

We can do this. We can be more than we are now--we're designed to improve,
to rewrite the blueprints, to expand our knowledge, understanding and
wisdom. I can't and won't pretend it will be an easy task, but the more of
us that do it, the easier it will be for each of us. As the old German
proverb says, "Many hands make light work." And echoing that, the words of
SF writer and Sturgeon lover Spider Robinson: "Shared pain is lessened;
shared joy, increased."

So let us love one another as we never have before. Let us light up our
red-orange-yellow-green-brown-indigo-violet world with the sparks of love
within us all. And let our love shine through the universe like an
unfettered eternal flame. It's our choice.

I recommend the following Sturgeon books:
Selected Stories (of) Theodore Sturgeon
The Dreaming Jewels
Venus Plus X
To Marry Medusa (aka The Cosmic Rape)
Godbody