One of my favorite authors, Jeanette Winterson, has a seductive way with words. Her words have a dizzying effect, and at the same time, make all the sense in the world. She’s an expert on love and describing love:
‘I fell in love once, if love be that cruelty which takes us straight to the gates of Paradise only to remind us they are closed forever.’ Jeanette Winterson.
“How is it that one day life is orderly and you are content, a little cynical perhaps but on the whole just so, and then without warning you find the solid floor is a trapdor and you are now in another place whose geography is uncertain and whose customs are strange? Travellers at least have a choice. Those who set sail know that things will not be the same as at home. Explorers are prepared. But for us, who travel to cities of the interior by chance, there is no preparaton. We who are fluent find life is a foreign language. Somewhere beween the swamp and the mountains. Somewhere beween fear and sex. Somewere beween God and the Devil passion is and the way there is sudden and the way back worse.”
― Jeanette Winterson, The Passion
Real intimacy. Real, mature love, is the desire to be with the person you love because you want to. Not out of guilt, pity, a desire to control, possess, or to prove something. I am constantly fascinated by how people express love, and lack thereof.
It doesn’t make any sense when you claim to love someone yet constantly hurt them. And hypocrisy does not fit well with love. To love, you must first honor yourself, and honor your lover’s heart. To humiliate and destroy them, in the name of social pressure/society – that can only be utter selfishness.
I wish people who loved actually understood that love does not obey rules. It does not seek acceptance. It finds its home in hearts, not in fancy houses, big publicized events (wedding ceremonies), and it certainly does not facilitate power struggles. You only learn to love maturely when you recognize the infinite power in human vulnerability, and you embrace it, respect it, and solidify it.
Those who Run away, the Abandoners, are constantly lagging, never catching up. Maybe their hearts cannot handle big, crazy, endless love. I think it’s a waste to have a heart beating, when you continue to dishonor it.
I love you. Those three words are a promise. They cannot be hurled at anyone. And yet words and bodies are sold to the highest bidder. The desire for desire and love is dying, while the struggle for power thrives.