My love can be so focused, so exclusive… whether it’s a risk I take, or a rock I dream of (I dream of and with rocks; I find them and weather internal battles of if they want to come home with me or not),
…or when I see someone’s essence and then I fall in love with all of their limitations and idiosyncrasies in utter devotion to seeing that essence shine through every cell of their being…
Sometimes it’s the checker at the grocery store, or a homeless person (I might fall in love every time I see someone who lives outside), and sometimes it’s a friend.
Sure this has been fertile ground for the codependency I’ve been carefully (and earlier-on recklessly) dismantling…
and codependency is not its essence; only a misunderstanding.
Of course I say to myself that sexy romance love is the ultimate.
I’ve had many wonderful boyfriends who also seemed impossible and untouchable at the same time. I’ve lived with a few. I made a baby with one.
I’ve danced with many men, and a few women. As a follow I wove my swooning artfully like an ecstatic ninja in the space they created and protected for me.
But honestly when I try to get specific, even about the men I fell in love with and had sex with…
…the lines between them*
and my house plants, fog, or my old giant round mirror, any sunset ever, or the art I made with my daughter, a papier-mâché rhinoceros crafted to honor a dream; or the first cigarette I rolled in 3months with summer clover, tobacco-from-the-pipe-store & white-sage-brother
*blur to challenge if they are any different.
Still, I prefer to have the sexy romance love present, and it seems to amplify all my other loves —which is delicious and also can feel scary and overwhelming.
Is it scary and overwhelming though?
I have experienced it that way. I also feel fearless, which may account for some of the recklessness as well as the creative genius & seduction.
The upward spiral can go so swiftly and the person I’m with can reach dizzying heights that alarm them and has them hurrying toward the ground, instead of pulling the rip cord on the parachute.
Yes I think I’ve done that too… some kind of solidarity?
Like: “oh we’re pretending we can’t fly!!! I’ll validate that for you!
Let’s jump out of a plane and just get back to Earth as quickly as we can! “
As I complete a 10 year cycle of investigating this phenomenon with my life… I have become fond of parachutes and staying in the plane sometimes and soft places to land; sometimes I stay on the ground and weather the fear of missing out.
To imagine a man who can navigate himself with me is dreamy and yummy and a little wistful.
Either we are enjoying the ride together, or we are not. It has less to do with the other, and more to do with my commitment to loving my life.
That monogamous devotion to my life is what allows a million other loves that are as precious to me as they are diverse.