I truly have no excuse as to why I haven't blogged for so long other than to say that life has been flaring up. The proverbial "Murphy's Law" and then some.
Nevertheless, due to the content of this post, I felt the need to share it with you all. So, first apologizing for not being around more frequently, and second ... please enjoy.
The other day, after having had a profound conversation with my best friend about love gained and love lost a question occurred to me;
“What does true love feel like, fire or home?”
At that time, she gave me a quick summary of her thoughts on the matter, which then coaxed me to want to put the question out in the ether.
I created a poll. I even went as far as to add come gifs just to catch the interest of the multiple Facebookers I commune with. It took me a tad bit of work to figure out how that worked so I was a tiny bit upset that people didn’t take the time to even look at the poll.
Well … what can you do?
At any rate, the question pestered me like a thorn in my side as I really wanted to know what others thought. Mostly, because my opinions might’ve been a bit askew or bias. Being the person that I am—open to other people’s points of view—it would have been great to hear some of them. But, as you have it, only 3 people bothered to take the mini, 2 question poll; a family member, a friend and myself. How pathetic is that?
That incident, of course, led to this blog post. So, hailing my handful of faithful friends, I invited them to give their feedback on said subject.
In come Adonis Mann, Synful Desire, C. Desert Rose and Da’Kharta Rising. However, before they jump in with their thoughts, here are mine ...
“I’ve been burned by the fire,” is the term that my mind keeps whispering, culminating in, “And, it hurt.”
The scientist in me claims that love is nothing more than raging hormones—rampant, delirious and delusional—destined to be satiated by the first fool you harness a keen eye for. The proverbial, “I fancy him/her” with the next step being a huge leap off of the closet bridge.
Pain, followed by tears, followed by wallowing in self-pity and concluding in the temporary dormancy of said hormones until such time as the next fool comes around. And then you do it all over again.
A fire that burns so deeply, one questions one’s ability to have functioned prior to the existence of one’s flame.
Red, like blood; the blood that runs through their veins which gives you life.
Orange, like the sun, whose warmth keeps you tranquil and happy.
Yellow, like a canary. One who makes you feel as though you too can fly freely through the vastness of the world and never be alone again.
If true love is like fire, it can give life but also exterminate life.
There is no wonder why Hell is described as a pit of unending fire, for it is a place where empty souls go to live all eternity in torment and solitude.
And this makes me think …
If true love is like fire, it can make the cup that is your heart overflow with felicity. But should it ever end, it can also incinerate your pneuma to the point of oblivion.
I have felt that fire before. At the time, I surmised that it was true love. Now, I realize fire is both the beginning and end—the inauguration and corruption of our hearts. Therefore, I surmise that love should be home. Fire is here today and gone tomorrow. Home is constant.
By deduction, if love in the form of fire is wavering, then love in the form of home is forever, hence it is true.
If I have learned anything at all, ‘tis that love is indubitably fire. Of this, I can assure you as I have experienced the warmth and sting of it.
Much like fire, love rises with a spark—a barely noticeable glint. A minute volley of atoms bouncing off one another until, boom, the flame is lit. Once lit, nothing but water or the flame itself can stop it. However, who in their right mind would want to extinguish something so precious, so incomparable, so new, so powerful. No one, to be sure.
We, the lovers, stand in both awe and stupefaction wondering how something so wonderful happened to us.
There is an inexplicable warmth that coats the soul with belonging and plenitude. Due to this, the lover is lost in the whimsical flickering of coral. ‘Tis a dance that hypnotizes the lover in such a way that all he or she can feel is its calefaction and naught a person can tear him or her away from it. The only person who can snuff out the flame is the flame itself. A perplexing conundrum, for how can fire put itself out.
In my experience, easily. When the flame is done … when it no longer wants to offer its heat … by its own volition, it tempers and ends. The sorrowful part, are the embers left smoking inside the heart and mind of the other party.
However, if the flame opts to continue to burn, nothing and no one will ever douse it.
Shamefully and sadly, I’ve had to endure the chill of a dead heat. Nevertheless, love burns like fire, for good or for bad.
I am not a person who believes in settling, especially in the arena of love. Love should be as vital as breathing with the amounts and the intensity. It has to be worth living for, fighting for, and dying for. It is not a muted instrument but a symphony which stretches the test of time. Any intangible must possess fire. The person I am with must be one who makes me warm from the inside out where and when ever I see him. If he does not, then it is easy for my interest to wane. If my mate is unwilling to do what it takes to keep my fire burning, then it is up to my heart’s authenticity and salvation to go elsewhere.
C. Desert Rose:
I suppose I will approach this question with another question;
Have I ever felt the fire of love?
Of course I have.
Here is another question;
Did I enjoy it?
For a time, yes. I did.
Did it last?
No, it did not.
Therefore, life has taught me that the answer to the proposed question is that love should feel like home. No, as a matter of fact, it MUST be home.
“Why do you say that?” you may be asking.
The answer is simple, really.
I say it because fire is an element—1 of 4, to be exact. Fire, Air, Water and Earth. While they are perpetual in existence, they act like the waves of an ocean. Unstable and unpredictable. Here today, gone tomorrow.
Like the well known old idiom, “Home is where the heart is.” Allow me to explain.
Have you ever went away from home? On a trip, perhaps? To college, maybe, or overseas? I dunno … you pick. At any rate, have you ever left the sole place you call home and upon your voyage discover that you miss home profoundly?
Homesickness, is what it is called.
You find yourself envisioning home. You can practically feel the ambiance, smell the scent of the food cooking, hear the noises you’ve become accustomed to, and suddenly you feel incomplete. Empty. Like something very important is missing. Immediately, sadness consumes you.
THAT, is what love ought to be. EXACTLY THAT.
Love should feel like home. A place like no other. The one place where you can be yourself without apologies, without presumptions, without judgements and without explanations.
The bosom of your spouse/boy or girlfriend, should feel like you’ve belonged there all along. The smell of him/her should fill you with glee. The touch of them should calm your weary soul. The sound of them should appease any angst. It is with them that you should feel like 100% yourself. And, it is in them that you should long to be.
True love is home. It is the dwelling of the heart, the habitat of the soul, the refuge of the spirit.
Why? Because, “Home is where the heart is.”
I don’t think I’m the right person to ask this question to because I am not a believer in the fairy tale, Harlequin type bullshit interpretation of love. In my opinion, too many people speak it and have no concept of what it is about or how to properly use it. The act of love itself is a promise you make: whether said to a family member, a friend, or a loved one. Promises are set up to be impossible and therefore, easy to break. How else can you explain the number of marriages which end up in divorce? What else factors into betrayals that create family and friend sagas that rival reality TV shows for attention? There’s nothing “home like” about love. It’s dangerous, just like fire. It’s erratic, especially when you encounter someone which has you throw all reason to the ground just so you can soar for a few years, months, weeks, days, hours, seconds? I don’t know if it is “true”. All I know is the aftermath: how investing love in the wrong person can alter the way another person conducts business, not just in relationships but in her day to day. It’s a gamble where you don’t want to crap out. Love is all out fire. Enough said.
With so many thoughts on what love feels like, it makes me wonder which is more accurate? Furthermore, it makes me ponder on, “Can they simultaneously exist? Can love be both fire and home?” Perhaps, for some it is. For others, maybe not.
Please, don't hesitate to give me your thoughts. I would love to see what you have to say.
Until Next Time, y'all!