Spring is in the air! And I’ll admit, I’m feeling the fever. Operation Lose These Pesky Winter Pounds is in full swing. (I can’t even call it quarantine weight, y’all, cuz I been working outside my home all through the pandemic. And that in itself has carried it’s stressors, so dammit, food. Don’t judge me.)
I’m nesting around the house, which means that the month-long process of spring cleaning, purging, and garden prep is underway. I’m touching up my wardrobe, getting the lineup of new sneakers, sandals, and everyday cute flats in order. I’m looking at these neglected nails, which frigid temps and frequent hand washing have forced me to keep short, and penciling a trip to the salon onto my calendar. And I am friggin ready to go to a Brazilian steakhouse with my friends and eat and drink until my eyes blur…on a cheat day, of course.
I want out! Away from work and the shadow of 2020, that is. To let go, to release this season and barrel into the next like a freight train. But that’s not quite how life works. This transition needs to be smooth. There are certain protocols for change that nature has set, and trying to skip over them always produces lackluster results.
Love is no different. So, here goes my analytical brain again, splitting hairs. Before you throw on your wig and maxi dress (or your man weave and joggers) so you can snag a new boo in the park, bear with me, because I think this deluge of unpopular opinions and old school relationship advice will ultimately reward you.
People use the phrase, “falling in love”, to refer to that wonderful sense of abandon and freedom that one feels when they let go and simply ride the waves of a new love interest (and I use “new” quite intentionally). Trust feels so good, doesn’t it?
There’s nothing wrong with being fully present in and savoring the moment. I co-sign that! There’s nothing wrong with being overtaken by gratitude whenever you have the chance to experience this wonderful elixir of life called Love.
Isn’t falling, like, one of the top human nightmares? I’m just sayin’, the human mind associates FALLING with deeply rooted fear, as the memory of untimely and tragic deaths that have occurred over millennia – memory that is lodged in our collective unconscious. (How symbolic…) It’s like, in our dna. There are rational, levelheaded people in the world who walk around with a notion that if they hit the ground after falling in a dream, that will signal their real life demise.
Can you name any instances where falling would be preferable to controlled motion? Maybe you can. Maybe you’re a glut for adrenaline and find things like bunjee jumping or sky diving exciting rather than nauseating. But in everyday terms, I think I’d rather dive into a pool, gracefully step off a treadmill, carefully descend a mountain, and only fly in planes with fully functioning landing gear.
Even in situations where adventure is the pursuit, the parameters for play are carefully studied and risks heavily mitigated. Yet, people often do not employ such forethought and care when jumping into love with their very hearts and souls.
So, might I suggest – so that you may gain maximum enjoyment and fulfillment – that you take a leisurely stroll into love, all senses wide open and feet firmly planted on the ground. Stroll as if meandering through a fragrant garden…rather than falling into it naked and disoriented like Kyle Reese in the first Terminator movie.
Did I lose you? If not, hold that classic movie moment from the 80’s in your mind as the best possible visual.
If you’re a culturally deprived soul unfamiliar with the film, let’s try again. Step elegantly into love, as if you’ve arrived fashionably late to an evening, lakeside wine tasting, flawless in your best attire…rather than falling into it like a swatted bug, flat on your back with your little bug legs flying frantically in the air.
Why do I suggest you do this? Because so many of our phrases and concepts around love are based on a notion of helplessness and dependency. We celebrate denial and destructive lack of awareness and call it love. We praise self-loathing, draining possessiveness, and irresponsibility for everyone’s well-being, and we call it love. We refuse to take the journey of inner healing and growth, choosing to feed on another person’s energy instead — no matter how altruistic and deserving of better, or toxic and deserving of being shown the door, that other person may be — and we call that codependent shitshow love.
And we race into it at warp speed so we don’t have to THINK about any of it. We allow ourselves to be rushed into it by others so that they can con us out of whatever we have to offer through love bombing. By the time we realize the cost of what we thoughtlessly gave away, it’s gone. We suddenly realize that what we gave away was so much more valuable than any fleeting feeling based in biological chemical processes and unreliable, airy fairy notions of “soulmates”. And there’s no one to blame but the one in the mirror.
I posit that love should actually be thought about. I posit that love is not scarce, so there is no need to chase after it and claw at the first signs of it like it’s the last chance at a meal that you’ll ever have!
Find out if it’s really love. Hell, take some time to figure out what love truly is and how it works best for you. Then, when you’re clear that you’ve created a connection that will nurture rather than destroy, sit back and enjoy it.
Can you do humanity a favor and at least try that?