Repost - On loving hockey and being a new Dad

(This is an old Pass it to Bulis post which has been scrubbed from the Web. I'm reposting on my own blog, with permission).

Loves, New and Old

I love hockey and my newborn twins.

So far, I love hockey more.

To be fair, it came first.

My little ones are about a week old, and I’m beginning to know them I think. I realize most of the personalities I see are projection. I’m building a story from a small sample and the assumption of family traits. If I try hard enough, I’ll make them true.

I love the little guys, but it is still in their idea my love is found.

Some people say they fell in love with their spouse, or babies, the first time they saw them. These people are different than me. I imagine they are revising history, or have a shallow comprehension of love. Love doesn’t come and go. Love of anything, real love, binds you inseparably. That why they say, ‘for better or for worse’. The fact of love doesn’t change when its circumstances do. Importantly, love takes time. Love takes understanding. Love takes patience. And love doesn’t require passion.

I am passionate about protecting and raising my little men.

But I love hockey.

I’m passionate about hockey sometimes, too. But I’ve been in love too long to expect it to change. The Canucks will continue to hurt my heart. My favourite players will keep retiring. And my mediocre talents will fade into drunken late night embellishments and dust covered gear buried deep in my garage.

There is hope for the little ones, though. My passion will ebb with every feeding, diaper change, new tooth and scraped knee. I’ll soon have more than the idea of you to hold. Here is where your inevitable victory for my affections lies. I will always love the idea of you.

I long ago realized the idea of hockey is flawed. It is all arbitrary alliance and imagined loyalty. It is play exaggerated and structured beyond absurdity. Sometimes the instances are perfect, but there are cracks in the centre.

You, little ones, will make plenty of mistakes and I’ll love you for each folly.

But the idea of you is perfect.

Love is Funny

I love only a few people.

They are who you'd expect.

My spouse, my kids, my family, my best friend...etc.

But love itself is funny.

It takes near misses to remind us sometimes.

Only when I'm floating. Only when I'm adrift. Only when I'm down the rabbit-hole of lost loves and missed connections do I realize it was here all along.

Sometimes I realize the power of reality only in fantasy.

Once I thought the world would always make sense.

And then I grew up.

And then everything became complicated.

Except love.

Love is simple. You choose and you keep choosing in the face of alternatives.

I love only a few people.

And you know who you are......cause I've told you.