Some time ago, I met a woman.
She was a curious, unbridled girl. She feared nothing.
She made me ponder about life, with her pragmatism and realism, with her acting like she knows what she wants; but it was clear to me she was the wind: she let herself be carried away and allowed her desires to change and alter her character.
We were walking downtown; walking and talking. Sometimes I put so much attention in talking that I forgot about walking, and vice-versa. We were going through some desolate alleys, and she knew those streets better than me.
I silently let her lead, also because it was clear to me that she needed it, in order to feel at ease and express herself better. So, even if we had no actual destination, I would have taken the straightest paths; she instead wanted to explore, change the rules of night-walking. Like a painter, she was drawing a picture with her choices, and I wanted to be part of it.
«You know nothing» she said, «there’s no reason to feel hurt in love. No reason to prevent yourself from jumping in again and again»
«I wouldn’t be so sure about that»
«Because you’re wrong» she replied half-smiling, while I was still smiling myself by the certainties that my own words had just given me.
I had evidence of what kind of suffering love could lead to. I could have proofed how preposterous her statement was, because I had proof of all the struggle, of all the illusions.
I was aware of the overall waste of time and energy that love meant to me.
She cut it short.
«Sure, sometimes love means suffering. We all know that. Jealousy, delusions, worthy and unworthy fights. But it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it and put all yourself in it, every time. Then break the damn thing, win or lose, but rise again without missing anything»
My thoughts stopped their course. She was right.
It’s unbelievable how one may think of having certainties, and how quickly a small looking, sweet girl may dismantle them and demolish your strengths. I had spent time building those strengths. And then she came to question them.
I thought about the very first time I met her. It was years ago.
I undervalued her, in the first instance: I thought her character was her limit. I was convinced that her lack of reasoning, her impulsivity was her weak side. And maybe I was right; because I’ve seen her falling in her own illusions, or in those that life projected around her, as easily as everyone else could, or even more. Sometimes I thought she was trivial and predictable; sometimes I thought she was just another actor in the theater.
But now, her readiness in walking down the road of life and pointing out my weaknesses made me think she might be deeper than her mask of false care, and uncountable friendships and phone chatting and self-reflection. “There’s something true about her impulsivity, her instinct.” I thought. “She’s got her own connection to the spirit of things. She’s a hunter.”
As I looked at her now It got clearer to me.
She hunted relationships, she hunted experiences. She never stopped in front of something that she understood she might grasp. She was not a dreamer; she looked around searching for her next prey, for the right place where to wait for it, for the right thing to do to increase her sensations, her advantage. And then she moved forward. She didn’t want to harm anybody; but she didn’t care much either if she did it while pursuing what she wanted. And she wanted to feed her spirit.
«Maybe some people are more prone to make a distinction between sex and love until the day they feel they met someone “right” that could properly join the two things» I said, «especially those who have fallen in the illusion once and now take measures to avoid making the same error twice».
I was hanging on these thoughts, while also thinking how likely I may fall in love before even feeling any physical attraction. Or, how often I feel attracted by a body only.
Then she flashed me for an instant and reminded me how easily she’s capable of joining those two things every time without sacrificing any feeling, any moment.
«you have to fear nothing» she said. «Or you’ll end up over-protecting yourself, and preclude you feelings and experiences»
I couldn’t deny how easy it looked for her to live a relationship as deeply and intensely as she could, while also not despairing in case something went wrong. Not allowing herself to be demolished by her feelings, but regenerating, changing, and moving forward.
And her own life-situation made it even more obvious; she came from a “paused” relationship. That thing that happens when one feels that something is changing and that his/her old position, or the partner’s, is no more bearable. Although her “pause” looked definitive, she still was concerned about it. She definitely cared. And she didn’t deny herself the furthest chance of a sweet come back… but still it struck me her dualism, this contrast between the strength and determination of her passion, and the acceptance of this presumably final condition, which made her lighter, resilient and ready to write another page on her book.
And I thought about my life, and how I live such a contrast daily. How many wires keep me tangled? material and abstract things, real and false needs, useless duties and responsibilities, desires, relationships, emotions…
And I thought about her, how she broke her chains to be at the mercy of the wind.