This thought stuck with me, though I was not sure why. The
knowledge that some ‘other’ could not complete you made perfect sense to me.
That would suggest something lacking in yourself. But even that idea
re-affirmed, in a way, the idea of a search for self, for the ‘other part of you.’ So, in essence, we would still be looking for us.
Yesterday, for what reason I am unsure, I was quite suddenly
illumined with a pattern in my love life I had hitherto been completely unaware
of. My list of gentleman callers (or others), as it were (namely anyone I have
had an intimate connection with—which is not to say it was always carnal) runs
as follows…
1.)
The artist.
2.)
The dancer.
3.)
The scientific genius (and avid creator of stories &
worlds).
4.)
The actor & master of archaic martial arts & weaponry.
5.)
The writer.
And as of recently…
6.)
The musician.
Do you see a theme? I do.
Actually, I see the one that you
probably don’t, because I live in my body. It really truly hit me in the face:
with every one I have loved, wanted & ached for in one way or another, I
have been longing & aching for myself; to nourish a fundamental part of
ME—who I am & who I long to be. The artist, the dancer, the scientific genius, the creator of worlds & stories, the actor, the master of fighting arts & horses & weaponry, the adventurer, the writer & even the musician. ME.
It only stands to reason that none
of them could ever fulfill me or match me or satisfy me; why I would continually long for more,
beg for more, tell them to leave, even when I wished for them to stay. No wonder I was so, so incredibly unhappy-- always searching for some secret thought or word that would rekindle magic in my veins. What I wanted
was to be what I loved in them, not simply love them for it. Every one of them. With
all of me. I wanted them closer & closer but could never be satisfied…Of course I could not be. Because what I wanted was not them. I wanted their love & adoration, yes, and their attention. I wanted to give them all of mine & all myself as well. And I did love. I did. But
underneath that, what I wanted was who they were.
.....All this time, I have indeed been
searching for me. (How strange. I didn’t know).
Though some part of me must have known.
In light of all this, I know now
what to do. Become…who I am. That is all I can do. Who I want to be; who I wish to be; adventure & living; cultivate myself & find what is within
me & pursue it with ALL of me.
What is hard… is that most days the other sex…people in general…no longer hold the same desire for me: you, no matter
who you are, no matter how fascinating or how I wish to know you…you cannot be
more interesting (are no longer more interesting) than my books…my room…quiet
time with myself to meditate or pursue all these amazing things I wish to take
in in my little life & which drive me mad with the wild lust for every new
subject & piece: the finding & birthing & training & creating
& living…of myself. Me.
A strange kind
of selfishness… (hmh).
And, yet...
I still long for the spark that kindles & burns between two people. Within all this, I still long to connect with people, in many capacities... All of
them I can. I love them—all of them; I am fueled by them, these connections
& the act of basking in & making a deep sort of love with the whole outside
world…but I have little patience now for small talk or these little dances that
most seem to entertain, that step around the direct & honest truth; these things we
call courtesy & common. And I am growing tired of the same 3 conversations
that everyone seems to have with one another. Can’t we just jump right in at
the middle of things…?
…And I find if I connect too deeply with anyone for more than
a moment, I am in danger of losing sight of myself again & all the
brilliant life & things I am up to now. I still want.
It occurs to me, also, then…if we are secretly searching for
ourselves when we are seeking a partner or match, and that other half is the us we need to find or make or recognize within ourselves…when we have recognized & fulfilled ourselves wholly, so there is no longer need for another 'half'......what
place in this world is there, then, for……love?
Is it merely companionship, which will help keep us alive
& make things pleasanter? Is it sex? Is it conversation? Is it the sharing of bliss & brilliant act of life with another or many? And if so, why does it feel like you must share it only (mostly) with one?
In this great, great world…full of wonderful adventures I
have yet to go on…with all these friends or lovers or strangers I have yet to
find or connect with…is there a place for love? What is love? An idea of a thing that has been instilled in us all since birth? Is there a place for it? For more than a breath? More than a moment? More than something ever changing & in transition? More than a series of hellos & goodbyes, punctuated by, '...how much I love you?'
…………And who, then, when I hope one day to find someone by my
side…who, or what, am I still longing for?
1 comment:
A good friend (or partner) should be so much better to read than a good book (blasphemy, I know). What's more, is that once we see them again there are always a few more pages to be read, or perhaps extra footnotes that were previously too small to read.
Were I to say that you didn't (or don't) have traits that I wish to more fully express, I would be a liar. Were I to say that that is the only, or even the chief reason that I love you; I would be the liar even more.
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