Vol 2, Issue 4: The in between

Love is not giving up. 

I hadn’t heard love described in this way before. Centuries of scripture detailing scenes of British countryside, riddled in stormy wilderness, and canopies of stars eliciting poetic description never fail to give nourishment to our present ideals of romance.  

The romantic inflates us.  It lifts us into the air and sweeps us off our feet, away from the drudgery that everyday life casts over our skin. 

It  infuses moments with slithers of delicious novelties, exempt from the deluge of mundane, trivial realities. What then, is the shift that takes us out from this dream like airiness into the reciprocal obligations of love? What takes place in the move from unmoored magic to marital obligation? What happens when Red Roses wilt and their fallen petals become mere intruders atop the putrefying compost heap? When does the decline of infatuation lead to the ascension of commitment? 

The line, ‘Love is not giving up on one another’ made me pause a moment in the midst of such questioning. I didn’t understand, at first, why this definition should resonate with me in a way that others hadn’t. Upon second reflection, in my early morning excavation of the properties of love whilst gazing out a coffee shop window, it is because of  how it describes love’s intention, rather than its burning quality.

 Romance is something that lifts us up and away, calling us out of ourselves towards unburdened stretches of star dappled sky. But love is what holds us on the ground. Love is what keeps us here. Not giving up on someone is carrying through their darkest hours, their darkest nights, as well as celebrating them in the celestial  moments that endow us with lightness and hope. People being swept off their feet from the apparently anti gravitational affects of unfettered attraction have a place, but our place in the air has a time limit. The idea of love as tenacity, has its own lure, its own line of questioning the reminds us of the significance of internal courage, the igniting force of persistence.

It is this kind of love, we often think is reserved for others. But when we start to feel the power it has, and the unlikely position we have as humans in the natural world to harbour, channel and command it, we realise that we are the most deserving recipients of the alchemy of our own love. 

How …

does she, (the author), have time to ponder such things on a weekday morning? I hear you ask. 

At this moment in time, I find myself in a point in life that many of us feel uncomfortable in, the ‘in-between’. This point in between jobs, in between loves, in between postcodes, is difficult for our habitually-inclined psyches because it confronts us with our uninvited friend: the unknown. I used to view these times not as moments of renewal and rejuvenation, but as deviations from the flow of life. I referred to myself as unemployed, unsure. I felt unworthy. I didn’t realise how I was making myself closed and unavailable to the lessons I could have been attuned to. 

The dominant voices in patriarchal consumer culture, dissuade us from becoming intimate with this in between place, that place where capitalism is no longer effective as a primary driving force. When people are able to sit in their own energy and are enhanced by the light of their own selves, they are less likely to mindlessly absorb narratives woven by outmoded ideologies that use people’s feelings of low self worth to fuel market forces and encourage mindless consumption. 

The manufactured illusion that the future is where our happiness lies  makes present states of uncertainty all the more unbearable.

Now, with the luxury of years and various expeditions through the ‘in-between’, I am now absolved from my previous dislike of this liminal phase. I am beginning to see what is present here,  rather than what is absent from it.

It is in this in between, when we feel outside anything, where love, actually, is waiting to shower itself upon us. Without the strings of duty and obligation, we start to remember who we were before these ties became the puppeteers of our human reality. We start walking without direction, without destination. We start believing in what we always had to begin with. We start staring out into the wander of the earth without purpose or reason. We start witnessing the awe of the world. We step into the relief we feel when our outdated ideas about ourselves thaw and fall around us.  We realise that the immense beauty of life lies not in any external situation, but in our own souls. We greet the day by entering into our bodies rather than our duties. We begin to see people with a softer, compassionate gaze. We start turning, ever so slightly towards rhythm, its ebbs and flows. We turn towards the peace we all carry inside of ourselves. We start believing again, in what we always were. 

During these tides of remembering, in our uncertainty, in the beginning of a new venture, we realise we are held not by companies or markets or images, but by our own grace. We are supported by the faith that love will navigate us through the unknown. That it will not give up, whatever the nature of the adversity we face. 

I love you all. X

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *