Octopi in Love

I imagine an octopus. This metaphorical octopus I picture likely has more tentacles than anatomically correct, which by my knowledge of Latin, I understand should only be 8. I see my octopus and at the end of each tentacle is a representation of self. The tentacles symbolize, for example, interests and hobbies, intelligence, philosophies, religion, relationships, family, dreams, sense of humor, attractiveness, spirituality and so on.

This octopus, a host of other octopi and all their subsequent tentacles are floating around in the ocean. The octopi are sizing up one another’s tentacles, examining all possibilities of a potential match. Love for independent films? A match. Chess fanatics? Another match. Dogs? Certainly not. A mismatch. I daresay it seems quite often most octopi believe one or two matches suffice for the formation of a relationship.

I would argue that upon experiencing stormy weather, choppy seas, changes in the tide, and swells of the ocean, most “formations” or relationships cannot withstand so few matches of their tentacles. If only one or two tentacles hold together these octopi pairs, most assuredly the pressure of the ocean will force them apart. Certainly, the more tentacle matches, the firmer the connection between an octopi pair. Might I not assert that the idea of soul mate comes from the feeling that all tentacles are perfectly matched, with nary a wandering arm?

Upon pondering the challenge in finding a match for all of my tentacles in one person, the need for xanax speedily sets in. For a perfect coupling, must all tentacles match perfectly? Because if so, I fear I shall never find, “true love.”

As one would have it, further reflection on the analogy graciously appeased my desire for solace.

In the broader sense, if I have 20 tentacles, then I’d be happy to tell you that my darling friend Lindsey and I have at least 5 arms connected. I have a tentacle that solely represents my love for Christmas tree decorations, which is connected to Desi. Of course, there is my other friend Kelly whose tentacle of practicality I connect to, and when I need someone to tell it to me straight, Kim’s the first person I go to. I have a few vocabulary tentacles too, and some octopi that fulfill my need to eat really good food. And though I have a few wandering tentacles still looking for a partner, I’m happy to cherish so many matchings.


And the more I began to think about this silly Octopus metaphor, the more horrific and limited my first idea seemed and the more beautiful and promising and hopeful my expanded concept looks. I pictured all of these octopi swimming in the sea and realized: I do not want to be alone. Nor do I want to limit my tentacles to just one person. How hopeful to see us all, swimming in this vast sea of existence, holding onto one another at our points of connection and keeping ourselves from the throes of stormy weather. You see, connecting is more the point than finding the perfect octopus. How lucky one ought to feel when a match between tentacles takes place. It is rather poetic to imagine us all, intertwined and connected deeply because of these tentacles. We are one big tangled mess of linked arms and that very loveliness is how we keep from drowning in the vastness of life.