love is.
October 1, 2009
three things happened this week that have got me musing a lot on that one thing everyone seems to have an opinion about:
love.
poets paint metaphors with it, fairies spin tales about it…and yet. as it is likely the most common theme in art, i am finding myself painfully drawn to it as well: the idea of love, the meaning of love…and of course, the experience of love.
love is an experience, is it not? one that carves its initials into the walls of our heart, ever reminding us of its caress…and its sting? we never forget. or we inhale the wisps of smoke of what it is “supposed” to be – fed to us in books and films…and this drives us to take risks, to build or sever bridges, to make art.
your experience of love is yours. mine is mine. which makes me question…
love.
what is it? sure, i could spit out other people’s words on the topic but instead i choose to draw out the magician’s scarves from my mouth, letting myself be surprised by each color that comes next…awed by the length of it all.
let’s start with the three things that kick-started this muse this week:
1. i was looking at online photos from a recent wedding between two of my friends. i was drawn into the beauty of the images shared, the smiles leaping off the screen, the joy that seeped beyond the edges of each frame. eventually it hit me. i was witnessing love – moving beyond the digital pixels, traveling through electronic space and it was able to reach through the colors and deliver an electric shock. my heart felt it. and soon, all over, i was smiling too. my personal feelings about wedding + marriage aside, the love flowing in and through and out of these photos made it real to me in a way i haven’t experienced before.
2. i watched a film today – the title of which is irrelevant as the story is what matters. perhaps you’ve heard it before? it is about love lost + found again…it is about how and when we let ourselves give space for change…and therefore ultimately for love. love happens when we take risks. when we step outside of the mundane and offer possibility a seat at the table. as the credits rolled, i began to wonder if this was true… and i’m sure you know exactly which film it was…
3. tonight. i spent a long extended time on the phone with one of my closest friends, initially to discuss a mini pre-midlife crisis (as she coined it) that she has been going through, but instead, i ended up monopolizing the airspace with my recent adventures in dating, connection and emotional vulnerability – with one person in particular. as i talked about my fears, my fierce hold on distrust…words slipped past my lips uncensored that made me stop: “being open to love is fucking hard…”
wait, what? i said, love?
yup, i said love. this indefinable and highly contestable word that too many ballads are written about, is actually, really what i am looking for. for too long i have eschewed this journey for fear of being a cliché. i have shut down my heart, closed off my body, and kept lovers (and potential lovers) at (several) arms lengths away because i believed that love had become too dangerous of a playing field. for me. my experiences of love had offered me up platters of scars, trauma and disappointment…and that was what has been leading (or hindering) my game all these years since.
as we talked and i remembered the wedding photos and the many ways that the pursuit of love tells stories in art + film, i began to loosen my grip on fear and let in a little bit more of my truth: despite my past – or perhaps in spite of my past, i am craving love. intimate, messy, unexpected, dirty love.
admittedly, it has been many years since i have been “in love” with another person. i crave it yet fear it…and as i begin to really open up my heart and self to someone again, i have to wonder, can it really happen again? will i allow myself enough space and patience for it to enter in?
as my breath shortens and my chest closes in, i try to take a deep breath and say yes, i do want this.
love.
in all of its forms.
even if i’m still not sure what exactly it is.
connect me. please.
September 21, 2008
i have spent much of today on a motorcycle, weaving in and out of traffic and winding through mountain, forest and coastal roads, which has given me plenty of time for my latest musing: what does it mean to connect?
to connect; connection: i feel like these are words i bandy about often – loving the way it rolls off my tongue and speaks to the multiplicity of ways i can build relationships, or moments, with people in my life. appreciating that it can speak to an intimacy that i otherwise might not have words to describe.
i woke up this morning, feeling on the verge of a flu, my brain a foggy mess…and on top of all that, emotionally overwhelmed with a longing to be home – to be connecting to the physical space where i have thrown down roots, where i belong. a feeling that has been magnifying, slowly, over the past few days.
this hunger is new and it makes me wonder what is shifting for me…or perhaps it is pointing to something new that is to come? or perhaps this is yet one more step along the path of realizing that i no longer want to do this traveling bit on my own anymore. a realization that stumbled into me that night i spent recently stuck in the jfk airport. even so. i am finding myself missing my life in san francisco in a way that surprises me…and yet also makes me smile a giddy childlike grin.
and so i find myself combing my emails (admittedly i have 4 separate accounts…), facebook, friend’s blogs – telling stories, drafting comments, responding to notes, reflecting back love and posting frequently here – because in being connected to a wireless network on my laptop, sitting here in a friend’s living room in sydney, my hands believe they can actually connect. through spinning words into virtual space, a desire to touch the friends i love feels somewhat met…and even so, it’s not quite enough. it’s a connection that feels incomplete – and yet i keep reaching out, stroking keys, looking forward to sharing physical space soon with my community of friends in the bay who i can actually touch, smile with and snuggle with into a delicious hug.
back in june of this year i was having a crisis of belonging and a big bout of restlessness. wondering where i was supposed to be. and so, i gave myself until the end of this year to figure out what was next. where i was supposed to be. where i belonged.
in the process, i decided to spread my tentacles (like that visual?) and explore how and if connection in its widest forms could possibly give me a clue as to which way to point my feet…which road to take. and on my ride today through the beauty of new south wales, i realized that in this craving, this longing to connect, i have found my answer. my home is in the bay. i have built community with folks there in a way that our connection reaches beyond any sort of intimacy i could have ever imagined. a few years back i asked the gods to bring me love in a way that would blow my mind. that would go beyond anything i have ever experienced. and it hit me to today. that i have gotten what i asked for…and all it took was patience, being open, giving myself full permission to want it…but mostly, to believe.
in addition to this realization, i unexpectedly found a way to reconnect with myself today. i may belong in the bay (for now) and at the same time, i also belong, simply, wherever i happen to be. this epiphany came to me this evening as we were riding back through the suburbs of sydney as night fell and a lone rider on a beautiful red sportsbike rode by and we shared a knowing nod. something i so love about riding in the states in the way that riders wave to each other with their left hands as they pass…and yet, when you ride on the left side of the road, waving is thwarted since the right hand just isn’t as free as it makes continual love to the throttle…and so, folks nod. well, can’t say any harley riders took notice of me…but us sportsbike riders…so much love. whether it’s a wave or a nod, i am connecting with strangers whose faces hide behind tinted shatterproof plastic…identities, gender, age take a back seat to the beauty of helmets and leather…and yet, it is the mere fact that we are there. people. on the road. on two wheels and we share an intimacy in that fleeting moment, zooming past each other with the wind.
somehow it was this final nod of the day, this sweet moment of silent connection, that made me realize that no matter where i am in the world, i can always find where i belong.
and clearly, i belong on a bike.
