Autumn has arrived and with it, a kiss of snow.

Time for releasing, for letting go.

Will I let go this idea of him?

Yes!

Over and over…. to make room for love, I let the idea of love go. I let the projection of love go. I let the hope of love go and open to this moment, to this sweet season and maybe, soon, I will open with someone into love!

I’m not scanning the horizon for white sails and black rigging, not waiting for a reply to the the smoke signals emit from my yearning, burning heart. I’m still in this moment, as the sea, calm on the surface, teeming below with life and energy.

The sea is far from me now and he’ll not likely come on a ship. Though I do I miss the sea, like I miss him, only I know the sea, slightly better, as I have swam in her body but not in his. Not yet, nor him in mine.

It would have been hard for us to swim together, until now. The armor I wore weighed me down, even in the shallows. I never would have made the deep dive I want to make in life, in love.

Likely now, he will come from the mountains, maybe, smelling of wood-smoke, pine and earth and salty sweat. He’ll use his hands, he’ll work the land, he’ll know her well, as well as one day he will know me. He’ll know he’s part of a her, even if he doesn’t know–consciously– this is how he’ll live.

With, or without a ship, he’ll be a pirate, a fringe dweller, like me, a bit at odds in modern society. Odd but not isolated. Odd is good. Different is good. Weird and wonderfully alive– how else would we live?

Our dedication will meet before our fingers ever touch. He will wear his dedication like a halo, a mantle, a Halloween costume that says more about who he is and what he cares for than any designer suit. And he will wear his dedication naked too; he will wear his nakedness well. The costumes are for fun. The light that shines through his eyes, through his skin–that is who he is and the luminous glow we make together to light the way for others– that will be our love, our gift, our service.

He will carry community with him like a captain does his crew; but he won’t need them to stand on his own. They do, however, make him who he is, for he cares for them deeply. This care has added wisdom and worry to his wide smile and crinkles round his bright, clear eyes. Creases worn in his open, trusting face from staring too long into screens that hold so many things that matter to him; from staring into long sunsets, dreaming of… me, may I hope?

Wrinkles from care, and work, and worry and wind, dance patters over the landscape of his face, open and responsive, always being filled, always making room for spaciousness. Time like the wind, moves, unceasingly and there is never enough time or wind for him and time with the wind we will love together.

Perhaps some winter-kissed breeze will blow me, unexpectedly, into him.

And just to make me smile, First Aid Kit sings, “I won’t take the easy road, the easy road, the easy road….nooo!” This has become my anthem and I came across it accidentally as I will, inevitably, find love. In search of things that are important to me, fulfilling my purpose, waking my passions, in search of thing things I desire, and want, and need.

I want to like him, and want him, and need him. For my tenderness to feel safe, for my power to hold awe and not intimidate. I won’t be easy, but I will be open.

Open is my nature and regardless of how things change in nature, in me, between us; this I will not betray.

Our openness must be sacred with each other. It must be safe. Just a little at a time, a tease that is equally a promise. Blooming in the confidence of love, even as the leaves turn and fall, I would like to fall, into a rich-red pile, together, before the snow blankets the landscape.

And now to add love like layers I wear, comfortable in the chill. And now to take the idea of love off and look honestly at each other in the firelight, in the moonlight, in the sunlight, by and by some laughing stream and on some hill overlooking the town I love, in love with autumn, the winding winter wind and each other.

Waiting for the frost to come. Asking for each others warmth, without words; asking, offering and receiving–effortlessly.

I will let him know I care rather quickly but it won’t mean anything at first because care is the condition of my heart. No. I will do what I do and be who I am, and see, and feel, and be with what I notice. If my care is not received, held sweetly and in his own language, in his own way, fed back to me, then what we share will be superficial. Fun perhaps, for sure, but I won’t dive deep with one who does not care.

I would have us be care-full with each other–full of care!

I would have us feed each other with our fingers, and drink dark and deep nectar from bottomless mugs and feed each other with our words, and banter and laughter and songs and souls and bodies. I would open in this liminal season to what I have not yet known, yet tremble for in anticipation to be in love, to be open!

 

img. Andrii Kobryn