The first time I fell in love, it was with dance. The notion of movement and music coming together to produce something new and altogether elevated delighted and moved me.
The second time I fell in love, it was with the beaches of the Caribbean Sea. The sparkling translucent water in various shades of green and blue beckoned to me. The warm sand beneath my feet felt like affection. There was also the family connection — being where my parents came from.
The third time I fell in love, it was with words. Deep down I always wanted to be a writer, except I thought someone in authority first had to give me permission and a mantle — like being knighted. But words are no respecter of persons — they are treasures found by all who seek them. Language is an endlessly growing expanse as the lexicon’s borders continue to grow. A frontier that mankind is making and ever moving forward.
The fourth time I fell in love, it was with the sun — specifically at dusk and dawn. The colors, the light, the warmth — so much to watch and adore. She really is an artist.
The fifth time I fell in love, it was with the illusion of perfection. I chased it and stalked it and made sacrifices to it, but flawlessness just wasn’t that into me. My love was repaid with cruelty. I felt like a genius chasing a fool’s dream.
The sixth time I fell in love, it was with my grandmothers’ cooking. Both of them created culinary masterpieces of love and savory and kindness and sweet on a daily basis. Every meal was physically and emotionally filling. Eating was never a matter of being hungry. It was always just wanting to delight in it.
The seventh time I fell in love, it was with a game. I found my voice and strength and body acceptance — not to mention life-long friends — on the volleyball court. It is my therapy and escape. It is a source of joy, a release valve for stress, and a means of anger management.
The eighth time I fell in love, it was with love’s counterfeits. I fell head over heals for fantasy and stories I told myself despite reality. Having a crush was my most committed relationship. I was always someone’s eager devotee — and always expecting a Hollywood rom-com ending.
The last time I fell in love, it was with a man who was worthy. This love is a work in progress. It isn’t singular, as it involves loving another and loving myself to love another better. Looking past flaws with forgiveness and discovering differences with gentleness in my heart. Seeing the beauty in imperfections — his and my own. This is how I learned that love is blissful hard work.
I have fallen again and again and again. And I will continue falling for as long as I live. Falling into pleasure and joy and all of the above — falling into these and everything I love.
“But to fall in love is not the same as to love.” ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Originally published at aabsofsteel.wordpress.com on December 13, 2018.