zlo
“Love is the revelation of a power which forces two complementary halves to unite. In fact, the subconscious will to unite is commonly known as ‘love’. ”
2.
Dear Anais,
I am on my way to France. The sun is lighting up the sky. It is darn below, cold and cloudy. Above is red, yellow, and pink as a crown on the earth. The mountains have lifted the trees to bask in its halo. My heeled shoes clomped down the empty corridors and the echo rang my departure in the riad. I slept alone. It was frigid and I wore my socks and blue parka under the velvet duvet and white sheets.
Abderrahmane and I had a lovely afternoon together. We met at the beach at 4pm. He swam and I reclined on my green blanket with a book. His fingers were cold from the water and he tasted like salt. I always move inwards to catch his mouth. I don’t know where he is aiming. We don’t greet each other formally as I did his family with a kiss on either cheek.
The waves were very high. It is a waxing moon and the full moon is in Virgo in a few days time.
He shivered the entire time we were lying in the sand and he suffered from cold, though he would not move. We spent over an hour. My face is sunkissed and my hair gold. I noticed he removed the crystal necklace that I got him to match my ring. It made me sad. Of course, I understand we are connected by more than just a stone.
Around dinner time, we left the beach and he doubled me on his bike. He fixed the back brake so we could stop without my worrying about flipping over the handlebars. I did that once as a child and the rupture is in me. I feel like I’m flying with my feet on the metal rods and my hands pressed to his shoulders.
We stopped in the souk and he purchased buns with halal beef and eggs mixed in some spices and ketchup. We sat at a cafe and I ordered a pot of tea to hold and warm my hands. The sandwiches were good and reminded me of the sloppy joes my mother made when I was a kid. There was a fishing show on the television at the cafe and he asked me where I wanted to live. I said I didn’t care as long as I was close to the forest and the ocean. I could live anywhere. I need nature and community; only love can change the body's cellular structure on such a refined level. He wants to live on a ranch with horses, cows, chickens, and animals. He wants to own his place. I only think about writing and how my body will feel in the space. I need it to be alignment, balanced, orderly, and beautiful. It is for me to conjure such magnificence.
After the cafe, we went on the bike back to the beach, and on the way, he stopped and purchased two flakey pastry cakes with apple on the inside. It reminded him of the cakes his mother bought when he was a kid. Both of us reliving our child good through food.
He biked us to where he took me when I arrived in Rabat—overlooking the sea and the cemetery. He sat on the edge in the wind and we ate the pastry. They were crunchy, sugary, and not the same as what he had as a child. There was a cream filling in the one he preferred. I was happy without the cream.
We watched the sun bleed red and pink into the water and it was so cloudy, so we did not see it slide beyond the wet. As it got dark. The surfers lifted their boards under one arm and walked to the shoreline. The lights along the beach path turned on and the birds floated overhead in the darkness.
We didn’t talk. It’s like that a lot between us. Neither of us engages in conversation. It’s silent and comfortable and sometimes we check-in. I can feel him looking at me and energetically assessing where I am.
It was very cold when we left the beach for the second time. He biked us back to the road in the souk. He had no jacket on, just a thin sweater that did not keep out the wind. It was very windy and he shivered. I could feel him. I had my blanket scarf though he refused to wear it.
I got us lost in the souk. I missed a turn and we ended up wandering between the tall white walls and there was a black dog with its furry head struck through the window. It barked and barked. The light in one alleyway was blinking and stuttering. We walked on and I saw the brown door with the dark green sign and gold lettering.
He did not come inside with me. I did not think he would. I knew it when I saw his bike. I was sad momentarily; I wanted to delay our departure from each other. And. And I was also grateful for the time alone to decompress and drop in with myself.
I crave solitude sometimes and it is nice that he is aligned with me in this way.
We hugged and he kissed my cheek and I was too contented to go in for his mouth. I did not feel the need to. I felt very close to him. Is sex about closeness? Is consummation about possession? When I feel connected to him, I do not feel a desire—a need—to be with him in that way. I didn’t care if he reached out to touch me. I went in for a second hug because I was cold and I wanted to catch his scent one last time.
He biked home and I got my keys stuck in the door. I had a terrifically hot shower in the stone-tiled washroom and rinsed my body with lavender soap. I took both of the long white towels and wrapped my body with them before climbing into bed to recline and read.
What a luxury it is to be so warm and so soft!!! This was the first time I had experienced this since I was in Vancouver. I love laying in bed, slightly wet, with nothing but a towel across my breast and relaxing while the heat is released from my body. What a luxury.
It was 9pm soon enough and I packed my bags and prepared for sleep. I did not sleep well. I fretted and rolled side to side, and around midnight a few people entered the riad, and it sounded like they were having tea in the shared den outside my window.
It is nice to listen to people speak gently with each other. I was comforted by their arrival and do. I remember being lulled into the dark. I woke at 1am to use the bathroom and Clara had also messaged me. I felt it. Abderrahmane also messaged me to say he showered when he got home. The bike ride to Sale over the bridge is about thirty minutes.
I am watching the sun rise over the clouds from my window seat on the plane as I write this. He will rise after I land.
You will already be in France when I wake up. Those were his last words to me.
I have misinterpreted nearly every action of his in our relationship. Through him, I am questioning what it means to relate to another person.
Clara keeps calling him my friend, and he is. That is true. There is so much more between us though I do not think we are lovers.
What does it mean to be lovers? What does it mean to make love? It is more than the physical act of a sexual relationship. There are so many types of love. Family love, friendship love, romantic love, universal love.
Passion—what is passion?
I will be alone once Clara leaves France. We have 72 hours together in Paris. How utterly romantic is that!!! I will discover what these things mean to me on this trip.
Do I need a sexual contract to be in a steady relationship?
What do I seek to release through sex?
What do I seek to receive in my relationships?
I lack direction. I do not lack discipline.
Sexual release is connected to our creative potential. Perhaps not having sex will give me deeper roots in developing myself as a writer. While I am gone, I will develop the path- the channel to invest my attention and energy.
I trust him. I get what I want in a relationship through him. I was sated and satisfied with our time together yesterday.
I see so clearly how I have used sex to validate myself in a relationship.
I see how I’ve used sex to reassure myself of the other person's affection toward me.
This is not why you make love.
That is not a living contract; that is insecurity.
I can see how my desire to be with someone drives me to act as a sexual object to receive attention and initiate a relationship. However, if you removed the sexual component, no spiritual thread was bonding me to my partners. It was physical and pragmatic. I am seeking the sacred. I want to know what God is through my own divining.
Things I feel in myself that I need to work through:
Patience in the process.
Love for the Self.
Trust in others; what they say.
Photo source.
