As I stride through my little town and wave merrily at someone or exchange boisterous greetings with someone else, I am often overwhelmed by good cheer, which sometimes borders on joy. On occasion I feel that the affection in my bosom is a bit too strong, blown out of proportion, and maybe even contrived. In fact, when I calmly examine anyone I am liable to encounter on my daily round, I am a bit perplexed about my emotions. Their faults and foibles are plain to see and sometimes painfully obvious. Still, I know that my feelings are genuine. It has taken me a while to realize that my affection—nay, love—is of a kind I have experienced never before because I have never lived in such a tiny place. It is joint, collective, all-inclusive, broad, communal, all-embracing, shared, catholic. Take your pick.

Addendum I (January 28, 2004)

Before going to sleep last night, I was seized by a thought so strident and so resonant that it immediately struck me as the purest and noblest among truths: behind my nascent love for this tiny community there is an attempt to fight apoptosis. Briefly, apoptosis is something akin to a suicide mechanism that overpowers those who are no longer useful to the larger community. This was first noted on the cellular level, where individual cells self-destruct if they are no longer needed, but it was observed in the behavior of entire organisms, as well. Once isolated, their dysfunctional immune systems and behavioral patterns vastly increase their odds of death. For a fuller discussion of this phenomenon, see “Apoptosis” (January 9, 2002). Back to my last night’s thought, love is about self-preservation first and foremost. And it may well be that nothing beats love in this respect. Whence its hallowed place in all major religions.

Addendum II (January 29, 2004)

Only consider the sequence of events that leads to my discovery of Howard Bloom’s Global Brain.[1] Or is it the other way around—the book’s discovery of my humble self? First, my then wife decides to return to the States and takes our children with her. Soon it becomes clear that our marriage is over, as is my second attempt at fatherhood. Second, my mother and my father die in my arms four months apart from each other. Third, I almost snuff it in the Alps soon after my father’s death. Fourth, I decide to retire from professional life and to move to Istria for good. Fifth, I realize that I am in love with a woman I already consider my fourth and hopefully last wife. As soon as I stumbled upon the notion of apoptosis I was convinced it was crucial to my interpretation of the world around me, as well as my own place within it. Thus the quote I plucked soon after I started reading the book. And here it surfaces again, as if by magic. As if by the miracle of love, that is.

Footnote

1. New York: Wiley, 2000