I Want a Swedish Vacation or a Staring Contest

Long, long ago—probably when I was in my teens—I read a tawdry novel. I do not remember much of the book, but for some reason I remember the substance of a conversation in which one of the main characters made an interesting assertion. He said two people—even strangers—would fall hopelessly in love with one another if they followed a specific process: sit, facing one another, and stare into each other’s eyes for twenty minutes, with minimal blinking and no looking away.  Because it was so long ago, I would not be surprised to learn that the setting might not be exactly as I remember, but I am sure that I recall the concept. Even though I doubt the legitimacy of the assertion, over the years, I have wanted to try it. Just to see. But circumstances have always argued against it. And I imagine how creepy it would have sounded if I had approached someone with the suggestion we give it a try. I suspect the request would result in the opposite of the suggested outcome.

But out of curiosity, I did an internet search this morning to learn whether there might be any truth to the concept. I found something on healthline.com:

In a pair of studies from 1989, strangers who looked into each other’s eyes for 2 minutes experienced mutual feelings of love. A 2003 study found that the longer someone started at a face, the more they became attracted to it.

So there you go. Look deeply into my eyes…

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As Maui burned, police continued their probe into Saturday’s senseless brawl on the Montgomery riverfront. And presidential candidate Fernando Villavicencio, who had been outspoken about corruption in Ecuador, was assassinated at a campaign event. And Craig Robertson was shot and killed during the FBI’s attempt to arrest him for threatening to kill President Biden. There is more, of course. More madness to distract us from the horrors of an historic Hawaiian town burning. More insanity to prevent us from focusing our attention where we might be able to do the most good.

But if we look hard enough, we can find more uplifting news, though the good news cannot erase the bad. For example, a new national monument, called Ancestral Footprints of the Grand Canyon National Monument was created, comprised of one million acres of public land to the north, south, and northeast, of Grand Canyon National Park.  And on another continent, the breathtaking resurrection of the Notre Dame Cathedral is underway. A police officer in Hapeville, Georgia solicited money from his fellow officers to buy a gaming console for a boy who had been soliciting yard work to earn money to buy one.

The good news stories are morphine, helping to deaden the pain of natural and unnatural disasters. But while a band-aid soaked in topical pain killers might help us get through an unpleasant ordeal, what we really crave is a cure for the horrors of coping with a harsh, menacing, brutal environment of our own making. To date, only death seems to offer that antidote. That is a last resort, though, attractive only after trying every other possibility; but then the cure seems considerably worse than the ailment.

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Crepe myrtles, drenched in beautiful, deep red flowers, contrast with the other flora I see out the window in front of me. As I gaze at the crimson bursts at the end of long, slender branches, I see a hummingbird pause outside the window. I am not the only set of eyes trained on the bird. Phaedra, sitting atop the five-step ladder I used a few days ago but have not yet returned to the garage, also sees the tiny creature. The cat realizes she cannot lunge through the glass to get at the delectable morsel, but I can see that every muscle in her body aches to spring toward her prey. Phaedra likes to sit and look outside, a place she is not allowed to go lest she become prey herself. The forest here is not a safe place for domestic cats. Where can she find a guarantee of safety? Where can any of us find that guarantee?

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I wonder whether I could train myself, psychologically, to “turn off” feelings of hunger. If a mental exercise could accomplish that, weight loss would be much easier to achieve. Recently, I was able to discipline myself to avoid eating foods that could negatively affect my blood glucose levels. It was fairly easy to do. But after six months or so, my discipline shattered. I began to eat toast. And chocolate kisses. And gin. And a hundred other things I know I should avoid or, at least, consume very sparingly. There is a difference between disciplining oneself to eat a healthier diet and “flipping a switch” to eliminate desire. I would like to find and flip that switch, if it exists. If it does, it is buried deep inside my brain. Cravings and hunger are different from one another, too, I think. But I cannot quite put my finger on how they differ.

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I read a blog post by an American woman who now lives in Sweden with her Swedish husband. She wrote that July in Sweden is a delight because everyone is on vacation; no traffic on the highways, no cars in the parking lot, and almost nobody in the office. She had already taken her vacation, so she was back at work when almost everyone else was off work. I remember times when I was almost alone in my office for various reasons. It was so refreshing to be alone; no uninvited input and interactions. That sense of freedom from external stresses is a joy. I remember it well.

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It’s almost 8. I’ve been dillydallying for too long. Time to get on with the day.