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What I Don’t Know About Love

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What I Don’t Know About Love,

A Meditation.

By Girtrude Belle.

 

 

I thought deeply about love and found myself at a crossroads.

No longer the girl who wished to be dominated outside the confines of the bedroom or to worship my man like some benevolent/malevolent deity that sprinkles its stingy, precious attention upon my ever-starving person. No longer interested in nor, frankly, excited by the prospect of the chase, the wait, the dance, the guessing game. No longer thrilled nor flattered by anyone’s approval, male, female, big or small, and perhaps most importantly, no longer able to confound sex, even wonderful epic sex, with attachment, I stood at the intersection of apathy and freedom, of walk and don’t walk, and asked myself like so many 90s clubbers before me – what is love.

Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me, no more. That much was certain. As for the rest, I was without answers. I wanted to be taken, and was afraid to be. I answered only the call of the wild because the gentle and civilized were too weak to hold me. Because I am untamed and untamable. I breathe free only when roaming the world alone like the wind. I choke when invited to stay inside a frame.
No longer thrilled nor flattered by anyone’s approval, male, female, big or small, and perhaps most importantly, no longer able to confound sex, even wonderful epic sex, with attachment, I stood at the intersection of apathy and freedom, of walk and don’t walk, and asked myself like so many 90s clubbers before me – what is love.

But what if there were no frame? What if there were a way to join together yet remain apart? What if your self isn’t that fragile? What if you can take away, add, divide and multiply and the important stuff stayed? What if there were a way to keep the silence around you even when someone is present? What if you knew how to be silent together, yet wild and untamed too?

What if I was forever running running away from an imaginary controlling force and towards an imaginary freedom that, all along, was–is–simply inside me, inside all of us, free for the taking? Freedom is free. Here’s a tautology and paradox all at once.

Do you think I’ve found God? You want answers don’t you. You want my happily-ever-after. Well, I haven’t got one. I don’t even think that concept is real. It strikes me as cowardly and escapist and insincere. No, I’m still on the run. I’m still in love with freedom. My freedom. But something out there has told me the mirror is cracking, ever so slightly. And that, maybe, just maybe, there’s life behind the looking glass.
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Read more of Girtrude’s stories here. 

 

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