trumpery
“We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.”
I had a sleepless night. I got up to use the toilet six times. I tossed from right to left, wondering which would win over my brain or body.
I tiptoed over those cold tiled floors to the doorway six times and slipped between the white frame and the wall. I can tell by the way he breathes. He was awake for four of the six excursions.
I left the toilet light off and peed in the dark with my silk nightgown bunched between my thighs. I wiped and rinsed my hands. I did not flush the toilet until I took a shower at daybreak.
I'd been lost in a sauna and could not find the exit. I'd called him on the phone and could not hear his directions. He spoke softly in his sleep, rousing me from my dreams.
I miss the weight of his body next to mine. I miss the heat of his chest and the length of his legs when I wrap mine underneath his. I miss how he smells, like firewood and something warm. Like cinnamon without the spice. Nutmeg.
I miss how he draws me into him and wraps his arms around me so my head is cocooned.
We won't lay like this anymore. We are practicing Halal Dating. No sexual contact; getting to know each other while we decide if we can marry.
We can not marry unless I offer myself to Islam and ask Allah into my heart.
Sitting at the cafe sipping a light latte, I write this with a laissez-faire attitude. I am feigning to uphold a decorous appearance in public.
The question is not of our love for each other.
The question is not of our faith in each other.
The question is not of our desire for each other.
The question is of God; I've just realized this is the only question ever worth asking.
It was a Tuesday. I'd called Clara and left her a voice memo stating that I was leaving the austere landscape of my favorite philosopher for a lascivious love memoirist. I shifted into Anias Niin as an anchor on the same date as her birthday on February 21st.
I need them both; I need both women to lead me through these terrifically challenging times.
I don't know who I am.
My internal world is not at a boiling point. I am full of tepid water. I have not made a request because I don't know what the request should be.
There are no shoulds.
There is only the world we create.
He loves me and is that enough?
I love him and it is all I have.
The questions I am sitting with revolve around Identity. Love. Relationships. God. Faith. Devotion. Surrender.
Simone speaks so elegantly on each of these subjects.
What is God? An idea, a belief, a feeling, a source of power, a means to control?
When we played chess last night, I got a glimpse into his mind. The strategy behind each action and how one move may set you up for a following sequence of actions.
I do not construct my world like this- I move one step at a time and follow the path as it is paved. I am walking in a pair of gold espadrilles, and I love how it feels to be this free with each footfall.
Watching him move the chess pieces, watching me move, I became very attuned to how our relationship has been informed. He has been a few paces ahead of me since the beginning. He is much younger than me, though he is much further ahead. I do not observe people as he does.
Martina keeps telling me that he is very nurturing and observant. I hear people, though I do not listen. I think it's because I read too much. I take everything in and don't know how to sift through it and pick out the pieces of gold.
Life is about just that - gold panning.
I need to pluck out the people and places that matter most to me and the decision process is not unsettling. I've been waiting my whole life for this moment to meet God.
I act based on my intuition and do not second-guess my choices.
My move from Brazil back to Morocco was a grandstand of my adoration; I didn't think about it. I just did it.
He shows up for me, and I never question him. I simply receive.
There is no mental manipulation between us. There is trust and truth.
I can do hard things, and today I asked the hard questions.
I asked about the things I've felt and did not want to consider.
What of the future? What he said to me on the beach in Banana Village is not what has happened. He wanted to take me home to meet his mother. I know when you are Muslim, you do this only when you are serious. He is considering all the textures of me. The essence of a person does not change, though there are secrets we do not see at first few glances.
I wink more than I look.
When I blush, it is for him and him alone.
Does he understand that subtle, soft part of me that no one touches?
How will we feel this aspect of each other if we can not physically make contact?
Today we hugged, and I felt his heart on my cheek. I thought my body might burst and turn into a stream that spilled out the window and into the garden with the orange flowers.
I would rather be an orange flower right now.
Orange flowers do not feel sad.
I am filled with a deep ache for what we had. This is not goodbye; this is not the end. This is the beginning of something new.
I want to meet God. I want to understand what is happening.
I want to talk to people who have gone through this transformation.
What did it feel like for you- what did you do? Did you cry? Did you laugh? How do you make love without your hands?
I must learn the many ways to express my love to him; the only way I know how to do that is through my writing.
I must learn to write my feelings.
I must learn to communicate what I feel and why.
I will do this to understand God.
Today when I said I was seeking a playmate, he said that for adults, it is in the planning. As children, you play. As adults, you plan.
Photo source.
