We all have a desire to be learned.
In both meanings of the word, to know things and be known.
To understand and be understood.
If we find someone who wishes to learn us and celebrates what they find in you, and you rejoice in the things you uncover in them, what do you call that?
We call that bliss.
I am still learning ~ Michelangelo (age 88)
I am still learning him. I made mistakes in the past, been punished for his past unknowingly. Spent time apart regrouping, recovering and somehow always finding our way back to each other.
Loving him is like navigating a minefield, through an orchard laden with the sweetest fruit, on the way to Valhalla.
I want what is on the other side.
I started the journey knowing I would be sated and sustained in the meantime.
Knowing there are mines.
The first time I got a quarter of the way in. I walked willingly. Thinking I knew what I was getting into. Trepidatious at first. Baby steps. Nothing detonated, so I got a little cocky, stopped watching my step and BOOM.
Its looking like a limb torn off.*
I froze. Paralyzed. Just stood there unable to move forward, not wanting to go back. Suspended animation.
I kept a log of my journey, I could tell you exactly how long I stood there. Close to a year. I stripped the closest tree bare and I was starving. Seasons changed. The leaves fell from the trees and I saw what was on the other side. Shimmering castle.
A voice came on the wind. “Try again” it whispered in dulcet tones. I have a history with voices, they never lead me astray. I acquiesced. Stood up, straightened my dress and took a step.
Long palavers into the night with his voice. Giving me the strength to keep going. Words weaving body armor, and giving me a metal detector of sorts. Still learning, soaking up every bit I was given. Gleaning at lightning speed.
There were storms, I weathered them. I don’t mind getting wet, not one bit. I prefer it. As does he.
I ventured further in, long confident strides, passed the point of no return. Truth be told, that first step taken years ago was already my point of no return. I have never had any desire to turn back. This is my path, my future. I was made for this.
I walked on, dodging the occasional sniper bullet with fluid grace, almost to the other side.
And then, oh and then…
Plastic explosives, buried deep underground, but I triggered it. I didn’t see it or sense it. No time to brace. Just another earth shattering ka-boom.
This one knocked the wind out of me, left a hole in the earth I had no idea how to climb out of. I was struck dumb and blind. Buried, bruised and hurt beyond what I thought possible. And I stayed. Crushed under the weight of displaced dirt. Stunned.
I took a great whooping breath, and then another and another. Pain shooting across my diaphragm with the effort of it. Assessing the damage to my body. It was bad.
Six months this time. Half a year to recover. Clean myself up, heal, climb out.
I sat on the edge of that cavernous crater.
“You can move mountains standing still.” Sara Lord
I stood, at the edge of the precipice. Unmoving, unyielding. Waiting.
And then it came.
X’s and O’s written.
Somehow I found the strength to run.
I stayed soft and yielding through all of this. It’s the only way, and it’s my way.
I have been building as I have been walking, creating trust out of nothing. Holding my ground, moving mountains standing still. Coming forward when called and never retreating. I don’t want safe distance. I want arm’s length.
And that’s how this ends.
It is hard to show him what I am with all of this distance and time between us. But I try, good god I try.
I am waiting for the final call, for him to tell me it’s time, and I’ll fly.
The last leg of this journey will be through the air, soft landing.
Arm’s length, looking up at him. Letting him explore my eyes with his.
Showing him all the treasures I carried with me, love, lust, longing, wanting, truth, kindness, softness and strength.
Ready to learn lessons, hands on. Understand and explore each other without space or time between us.
Finally being gathered into his arms. Resting my head on the empire in his chest.
(*No One’s Gonna Love You (more than I do). ~ Band of Horses)