Day 642: Little Dingy Bells; Love

I do like my friends, and God, I have some good ones. I missed the pleasure of seeing, touching, hugging beautiful Laura Furones this week. She was in London when I wasn't, then texted me when I was, but was on a long call, so her brief sojourn here went unruffled by me. And then yesterday, out of the blue, she called. Sweetly, openly, full of laughing and honesty, mobile to mobile, country to country, generous with her words and with her soul (as well as with her phone bill). I love that woman, I do. She's mint and she inspires me. 

We noticed that there were some people you just know that you want to be part of your life as long as you're both alive. When there's sexual attraction involved, sometimes that gets complicated (if you're me), especially if you carry the unnecessary burden of imagining that those chosen people are most likely to say 'eeeooouuwww' (or however you spell that). And yet it's just that simple. Am I glad this person exists in the world? Yes. Am I glad they exist in my world? Absolutely. Do I want them to be there for the rest of mine? Fuck, yeah! And if the person you're dating, going out with, living with, married to doesn't fit that bill, then... then there's more out there for you, if you're brave enough. 

We're not as random as we think. This is what we decided. There is a school of thought (which in part, I subscribe to) that our deepest relationships are based on serendipity and situation; that the people we meet, we meet because we happened to be in one place, not another. Of course that's true. Of course, if we hadn't met them, we wouldn't know them, and if we didn't manage to be in the same place (whether in real life or online), then we wouldn't have the choice to make (or the information to notice) about wanting them in our lives for good. And yes, yes, yes, things change, life changes, we're wrong sometimes, or our hurt makes us think we don't want them, but in truth, that's not the whole picture. How many people do you meet in your life? I don't know about you, but I meet many, many, many. And there are some that I've shared months and intimate times with, and yet they're no longer in my life. And others who tell me in the first seconds of our meeting that we will most definitely get on. Sarah Lonton. Took about three seconds, and I knew. 

Sometimes, it's contextual. Do a long acting course, and there will be a crop of fabulous people that you want to keep. It's about vulnerability. In an acting course (a good one), or doing a play, you show bits of yourself you wouldn't otherwise. Anything where you expose yourself properly, like a scallop, all unprotected... when you see that part of people, and they get to see you that way, you have a different quality of information to help you know. And then there are your Sarah Lontons and your Jessica Loudons and your Lilley Harveys, when you just know pretty much instantly. I don't believe Sarah had said much more than 'hello' when that knowing came. 

So all of you, and perhaps you don't know who you are (and if you don't, it's my job to tell you), thank you for being the shoes I want to walk in, the landscapes I want to marvel at, the dances I want to move through, the breaths I want to breathe. Thank you for being the people you are, just your way, and for showing me yourselves so clearly that the myself of me recognises you and shouts YES from the rooftops, wiggles and revels like a puppy does, wags with its whole back end in glee at the very you of you. 

And god, this comes: I've spent so very much of my life, consciously or unconsciously, adapting who I am to please people... and thinking this, I know that this just serves to mist the mirror. How can you see yourself reflected in me if my me has been folded down at the corners to better fit the thing I think you want? How can your soul know it's safe to come out if I'm telling you it's not safe for mine? If ever there was a motivation to live purely as myself, it's that. Because in doing so, I take my thumb off the bike bell and the people who love my sound find their ears tingling. They run towards me like children chase an ice cream van, and I find my sound multiplying in them too. We find each other more easily.  

Thanks, universe, for knowing so well how to do this. Thanks, courage, for reminding me that it's worth it. 

Check out this article, which looks at the very same from a different perspective. It's lovely, and it made me cry. 

Thank you, as always, for the water and the women and the beauty and the cold. Thank you for the crows - the heath is full of them today. Thank you for connections with beloved ones in other countries. I love you and I'm bleeding from the eyes with the sheer force of my thanks.