Possibilities

She wakes up this morning knowing she will be happy. There is a space inside of her and beyond her where an infinity of possibilities just dancing in front of her eyes.

There was that moment when she left him the other day in the morning. That precise moment very short, very furtive when she knew. What she knew, what she felt was common to her a long time ago, the time when she was in love. When she left his apartment, when they kissed goodbye, when he held her in his arms, she knew that love has hit her. Gently, softly but very clearly. And that was just it. Like an evidence. Not a surprise. She did not think of what could happen after that feeling. Would it work out between them ? Would they be available for each other ? Would he love her back ? These questions were not relevant as the present moment, the moment of this new-born love, was more important. She was honest to herself. She accepted to be in love. With him and with them and with their story. In this space where they are and where they were, anything can be possible. They are who they are, and they can be no one, and anything could happen to them, as long as there is this connection and intimacy. Because to be anything else, first there should be a connection.

Even knowing that she could get hurt or she could suffer, the suffering is still part of this infinity of possibilities. They have found each other. Somehow, somewhere in their lost souls and extreme loneliness, they have met and they have made space for each other. Short moments, long moments, intense moments they gave to each other. The kisses. The talks. The gazes. The naked bodies. What they offered to each other was never insignificant. Their lives so apart and yet so close, close in the search for another soulmate, or simply for a beautiful connection.

She wakes up this morning, accepting that kind of destiny. The kind of destiny that includes the love for him or the beginning of the love for him. Her heart is full. That is how she starts her day. In a space of infinite possibilities and he is one of them.

Define: you are meant for me

The question of knowing when and why the other person is meant for you is a difficult one. Maybe the easier way to answer it is to see the problem another way around. The moment you know that he/she is NOT meant for you.

If I look back on the past and have to analyze these moments, I would say that the other person is not meant for me when I cannot see the future with him. Even if this future could be something not necessarily serious. It is not about excitement or because you are scared of the routine you might get to live with this person. In a second, you project yourself into a life with him and you see yourself not growing but instead perishing. It has nothing to do with the person. He can offer you sky and stars. He can promise you a nice and quiet life. He can give you everything and a lot. You just know you cannot take it and cope with it. It is not about his personality either. He could be nice and perfect. You cannot blame him for anything. It is just the moment when you see the display of life, and activities involving this person, you just cannot pursue with it.

This happened to me several times in the past and always in an idyllic décor. It could be on vacations by the swimming pool of a nice hotel. I saw myself in the same décor for ten more years. It was not possible. It also happened quite often on Sunday mornings during breakfast time, usually with nice views somewhere on the mountains. I think the more beautiful the landscape is at that moment, the more accurate your feelings will be. You know for sure you cannot continue with the relationship and it has nothing to do with not being comfortable with the person. Actually, you are most of the time very comfortable when this feeling happens. When the other person reads a newspaper, plays Sudoku or just pours another cup of coffee. It is not about boredom, believe me. It is not because you want to have new sensations and adventures. It is just because you do not want any of these moments for ten more years. It is  impossible for you. And you just know it. Sometimes it has to do with love, not always. You can love the person at that moment and still know he is not meant for you and no future would be possible. This certainty can happen when you are still in love.

To get back to the question of how we know that the other person is meant for us. When you can see yourself in any décor with him. Even if he has nothing to offer to you. But you don’t need him to offer you or promise to you anything. Even if you are going to spend your whole life with him in a small studio  anywhere. The city where you decide to be with him would not matter. You are never frightened with the vision of life spending with him, doing nothing special and fantastic. There will be nothing exciting but it will be enough. You can picture yourself in that décor and for a long time. Nothing else will matter. When this feeling happens to you, you know he is meant for you.

That is my answer to the question. The debate is open.

Why don’t you stay?

I didn’t spend much time with her, and we hardly talked at all, but I feel as if she’s living inside me now. Like she’s part of me. I don’t know how to put it. (After Dark – Haruki Murakami)

Your words make me feel sad. Our lives and those of human beings are complicated. Those of couples are even more, incredibly complicated. At first glance, they all seem the same but then they are all different in each tiny detail.

I did not go home pretending nothing had happened between us. Our encounter existed in me. You don’t know me, you don’t know how I function, how I live, how I behave, what I share or not, what I am looking for in my daily life. I don’t want to believe that we will never see each other again, that we will never exchange mails and letters again. It would be stupid and sad.

I called you tonight but you did not pick up the phone. I would like to talk to you. I would like to check on your moods and states of mind. As it was not possible, I will be the one who talks. Monologue it will be.

You write so beautifully. I re-read all of your letters. We had made it come true, from the dream of a Far-East city to the reality of another adventure in another city, lost somewhere in Europe. We had made it possible, from illusion to reality, to our reunion, which was much more beautiful than dreams and anything else.

Darling, I had dealt with you, I had confronted you, I had hugged you, made love to you, talked to you, looked at you, learned from you, learned from myself thanks to you. These moments were extremely rare, much more for me than for you, I think. These people we could meet, with whom we could create a bond, a connection. Connection and bond that we need to invent day after day. Connection and bond that request moments spent together and could only exist and survive if desire and trust are there too. You are these people, these connection and bond for me.

I could not understand your decision to walk away. I could understand your need to protect yourself from being hurt. I was hurt and surprised that you regretted our encounter. You regretted everything we had created together these last weeks. More than a disappointment, it was a betrayal that I could barely accept. I could not assume your bitterness which erased all we had.

I could only talk about rare encounters, magical moments and happiness, about people who count, so that our lives become livable. It is my only way to live love, the kind of love I wish to all nowadays. Much more important and effective than a promise of an exclusive and long lasting commitment.

I wish this is the beginning of a story, a story whose destination I still have no clue of, but maybe just to make it possible the day I could hear you play harpsichord and meet your future red fish.

Plan B

“Find me now. Before someone else does.” (IQ84 – Haruki Murakami)

Some of us like to live a well-planned life. Some of us just go with the flow. But even for the most easygoing ones, to some extent, we still need to know where we are going, to which horizons we are heading. Sometimes we still need a minimum of planning and organization for our lives. Maybe not for the whole future ahead of us. But a few next steps for the next few months or years could be appreciable. Plans are reassuring: “After high school, I will attend to college” or, “I want to travel a bit” or “Five years from now, I want to change my job. I want to get married, to have kids…” Pretty sure all of us once have had that kind of plan. Or had tried to have it.

When it comes to love, do we have a plan too?

Which is your plan A? And do you have a plan B in case? Which one is your exit door?

Tricky question, right?

I have asked myself the same question. I have never thought of this.

I think I have only got a plan A for love. Love no matter what. Love to death. Crazy and stubborn idea of loving. Stupid kind of love which turns numb your brain and makes you lose your mind.

No matter how many weighty disappointments or disillusionments I might have to overcome, I would never arrange myself for a plan B. An emergency exit for love. No way. I know I always got a bit of a risky behavior as for love. Not always it’s worth a try. I am conscious. More than once I had failed the plan A with no plan B.

But a plan B seems small, despicable and unromantic. And especially sad.

How does this sound to you:” Hey, I love you, I will wait for you. But if this is too much for me, I will look for another person and try with someone else.”

So, no plan B for me for the moment. My only eventual emergency exit is hoping that the plan A works a bit.

Imagination 1

Though imagination and she are not good friends,

Lately she let herself carried away by some pleasant thoughts.

There are things she likes to imagine:

How would he look like in a few years?

Would his blond hair darken with time?

Would the tiny wrinkles around his eyes still smile at her gently?

Would his angelic face sadden with lived experiences?

Would his soft lips still talk to her with golden and delicate words?

Would his agile fingers still have the touch of silk?

What would time do to him and his soul?

Then she wishes she would never need to imagine him that much.

Because he will still be there in a few years in flesh and blood

There would be no mystery to such future.

She could then tell for sure.

With her eyes closed

That he stays the same

And like a very good wine

He tastes exquisite

Over time.

A simple person

I like to simplify things.

I am a monothematic person.

one love – YOU

one password for all logins – YOUR NAME

one desire – YOU

one obsession – YOU

one friend – YOU

one present – YOU

one past – YOU

one future – YOU

one date – the day we met

I hope I could become a “bi-thematic” person someday.

So I could think in terms of YOU and ME.

Clairvoyant

When she was around 8 years old, an acquaintance, a psychic, some sort of future reader, told her parents once: ” Your daughter has great thick ears, harmonious round face, sleek beautiful hair, it’s good, it’s good. The only thing is her eyes, her eyes have no sparkles, her eyes are sad, she will always be the one who suffers in love.”

Thirty years later, somewhere in Hongkong, in a dark neighborhood near a flea market, she was with some friends. The whole street full of psychics, hand readers waiting for them to stop by. This is very common in Asia. She agreed to give it another try. She never believed in this kind of thing. An old lady looked at her: “You have nice thick ears, you will be rich, you can keep the money with your ears. Your face is round, good fortune. Your hand are soft, you never have to work hard. But your eyes, my dear, full of sorrows. You will be hurt. And you will end up like a weeping willow by the street in autumn.”

Nice try. She should never have stopped by and paid for that. She did not believe. Her eyes are sad and usually have no specific deep expressions. She is just so short-sighted. There is a scientific explanation to that.

She always has a scientific explanation for everything.

Yes, she has been hurt in love. But that was not because of her eyes. More because of her heart. But that, the old Chinese lady, how could she see it?

Her heart is a sponge. That, no face/future diviner could guess. Right?

Loneliness

I live in a small and rich country where we can still afford to refuse a job when it is not in the city where we live and study. It is a luxury to be able to say no because you don’t want to commute one hour for your job. In my country people don’t move around a lot. They live an easy life, have a nice job, and are able to afford a comfortable standard of living. Things have changed a little bit lately but it is still a very comfortable country. When I was in the US, I met a lot of young American who had been living far from home usually right after high school. American people don’t see a problem in moving to another city for college or for work. We don’t have this mentality  in Europe in general, let alone in my country. Of course there are always exceptions.

Tonight at a dinner, I met a French young man. I don’t know why I was particularly touched by his story and background. He is 25 years old. He came from a very small town in the North of France, the kind of town with no charm and no particular interests for tourists and for the rest of the world. It is hard to say things like that, he said. But it is the truth according to him. His hometown is an industrial town where the inhabitants either work in the construction or are truck drivers. The kind of town in the middle of nowhere, not by the seaside, no mountains around. Nothing. No one wants to stop by and have a look at his town, he said twice. Young people grow up and as soon as they finish high school, they get out of there, trying to get a job in Paris if lucky or in the closest bigger town nearby (not especially better either). He told me the story of his town as if he was a history or geography teacher, giving me a private lesson. He added that groups of young people used to date one among another, girls want to get married by the age of 22 in average. Shortage of potential young guys. No particular nice perspective for the future. France doesn’t seem to be a dream country for him.

Unlike the other young kids, he did not only dream about new horizons, he left his hometown at the age of 18. He had lived here and there in France, got a Bachelor in literature and a computer degree. Then went to Berlin and stayed there for two years. His parents are teachers and he is the only child. When he told his story, he talked with a monotonous voice, as if it was nothing particular. His parents do not want to help him financially, he is completely on his own since he reached 18. He arrived a month ago in my city, the third most expensive one in the world. He was trying to look for a job.

The story is at first sight nothing extraordinary, not sadder than other ones, not very joyful either. But I don’t know why, I just perceived a sad struggle in him. Something more profound is hidden in his voice. Not a desperation but a kind of loneliness emanating from him. And it strangely stroke me.

I left the dinner and thought about how lonely we could be at the end of the day. He seems to carry it not only at the end of the day but all the day long, maybe during years already. And now in this new city. On my way back, in the bus, I could not stop thinking about loneliness, young, old, small city, big city, it is just something so universal and we cannot avoid it. “We will all die one day and alone”. A cliché but still true.

This encounter definitely made me sad. This young person embodies loneliness and the weight of uncertainty, so deeply and so heavily.