Do not seek for love, merely seek and find within yourself the barriers you have built against it. Rumi.
This is an influential quote for me, it is currently my screensaver, and I think there’s a lot more than romantic love it is talking about.
The barriers I have built to love, which I thought were self-protection, were really my cage.
I found love literally out of nowhere within moments of really letting someone who wasn’t available for me go. This experience alone should really teach me something. I remember my thought process and how I decided to let go and let God when someone gave me advice that if someone is meant for you, they’ll come back into your life without you holding on. That was when I met Y.
Who has been the subject of so many posts, poems, and speculations since.
In the beginning, because he didn’t fit the description of the person I thought I’d fall in love with and the way we met didn’t seem so courtly love friendly, I didn’t take him seriously, didn’t think he’d really shape up into anything, and just let myself go with the flow. I was in Paris for a limited time and wasn’t looking for anything seirous, just wanted to enjoy my time, and was happyto have met him. When we first started seeing each other, he far exceeded my expectations and I was always pleasantly surprised.
Then about a month or so into things I started to feel jealous of all the other loves he might have out there, started to think he didn’t really care about me enough, started to think I wasn’t detached and playing hard to get enough, started to think , crap, this might be something real even though it is not what I expected and doesn’t fit my image of what I wanted at all. I can’t tell if this is real or fake, if it is something worth building up or something to just put up with the rough edges for now and discard when I leave, since I don’t think either of us want anything serious anyway, and he probably wouldn’t even want me, my background is so different from his.
Then he meet my family in the US on his pre-planned vacation, then he didn’t want to spend every alst possible second with me, then he was his up in the air cavalier self and I hought it was just another reason why I couldn’t trust him and he didn’t really care about me, then my family and he got on better than I ever imagined and it felt so real, much as the person next to me somehow seemed like a stranger and felt so closed up to me and far away from the context in which we met.
We were just two loving people who happened to love each other for a while.
And then the months stretched on of separation, I couldn’t let him go, I kept the emails coming, he seemed to be fading a bit, he was just a thought in my mind but o how I wanted to know he wanted me so bad. I went crazy over having left Paris, over every single choice I’ve ever made in life, and the withdrawal form the sunshine of his life didn’t help matters either. I finally saw him and things were strange and dark and distant and we didn’t seem to agree on anything. He didn’t even kiss me. I felt sure he must have someone else, must never have loved me, must just think I’m a spoiled American brat who has held on to a transitory romance too long.
And then there wer the ups and downs after, culminating in the moment I told him I was coming back to Paris. When I knew how unimportant he was and didn’t want to hang up the phone, wanted to keep him there a little longer just to fel his presence like I did when we were together in Paris. Culminating in the knowledge that he had not a thing to do with my decision to move back and while I have love for him, I don’t LOVE him. He is not the first thing I think of in the morning. Which I already knew intellectually but experienced viscerally as I woke up eager for news of Paris going through the job and interview and visa and looking for an apartment process. How many fantasies I had of him doing things that forced me to get up and leave him at a restaurant, to embarrass him and never look back, to put the shoe on the other foot and make him feel rejected, to feel vengeance and satisfaction and be abelt to walk away knowing I had given it my best shot, that it was all his fault, thanks for the memories even though they weren’t so great.
And so I called him yesterday, he asked to call me back. How polite bu distant he seemed. And now I wait for him to call back, and this is a test and maybe he knows it. If it slips his mind, if he gets busy, if he can’t find a moment, it will be the nail in the coffin. But if he calls back, and I believe he will, I should trust him a little more at this point- that’s one of those barriers to love again- I get to hear his voice again, the voice of my lover that makes me happy. Maybe I will hold him in my arms again, and even if it is just one thing before it all falls apart and we go our separate ways it will be enough. This time I am going to hug him when I see him. Whether he just pecks my cheeks or not.
And maybe, just maybe, we’ll fall in love. Birds do it, bees do it, even educated flees do it.
And maybe we won’t.
And maybe this provisional co wanderer, this friend, this person I knew on sight tha I wanted, that I trusted somehow to take me home, who I still desire- his arms and his lips and just to be held, just those moments of sweetness that have nothing to do with sex although they can accompany it, to be kissed for no reason- this man, who confuses the hell out of me, who I wish would be the book reading philosopher of my dreams and keep me wrapped up in deep conversations into the night but who sometimes, just by holding me, would be enough. This guy that I was going to let go but fate has put us in the same bull pen again. We shall see.
That’s all we can do, right?
But this time, I know that love is not something you find but something you create. And I know that as I desire it, I will find that person to share my life and dreams and body and children wih, although he might be years away. Although I am years away from wanting a house and white picket fence and don’t know if I will ever want it, although I don’t even know if I want to live in Europe or America when I grow up and that I MOST CERTAINLY DO NOT WANT TO GROW UP, not if it means the death of my soul and an end to transformation and tumult and upheaval and change and moving with the wind.
Namaste my friends