To love and be loved: An ode to disevered soulmates and St. Valentine

to love . . .

When nature succumbs to resistance, the windblown flower bows in veneration, drifts to the lowlands of nod and leaves flesh behind.  I slip a quilt up to her chin, kissing her forehead that radiates as Siddhartha’s “glow of pure spirit.”  Resting beside and then with her ebb and flow of breath, I soon follow.

Letters in words need spaces.  Words in sentences need spaces.  Sentences in paragraphs need spaces.  The language of love and dreams follow.

Strengthening each one’s governing values, without objection, the two enhance and defend their qualities within each space and within all time together.

Spontaneity, void of time management, mellows the buds.

Sometimes tagging along on outings typically not appealing to one, earnestly exploring the other’s passions and sources of goodness, value is doubly reaped.

Listening as much as talking, one dances in a commingling with the other’s worldview.

Inciting laughter feels astonishingly fine, but freeing the other’s spirit in the process feels even grander.

Open to intimacy, gifted by God and ranging from:  Let’s enjoy some slow and sensual time together to I’m horny, get your clothes off, I gotta have it now, we primarily seek to pleasure the other while not being shy to need it — complete with goofy smile, blushing and offers of honest bribes.

Caring for hygiene and appearance heightens the senses of sight, smell, taste and touch.

Friendship without benefits can be just as profoundly expressed as with sexual intimacy.

. . . and be loved

Love is the outgrowth of a return-to-Eden “elixir” inducing neuro-abnormalities such as:  tunnel vision through which one skips along right-brainily with the wind, invoking Lebensreform-esque, [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lebensreform] proto-hippie ballads (as in eden ahbez’s 1947 song Nature Boy) [see:  Hippies!] such as:  loving the dead who cannot love back (as in Poe’s 1849 poem Annabel Lee); such as:  illogical resolutions to jump off Norwegian fjords (as in Wagner’s 1843 opera The Flying Dutchman); or:  communal “hookups” mirroring those of the free-spirited, flowing-haired, vegetarian, nudist Adamites [see:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adamites] — yes, those Old Testament, pre-Fall, divinely-natural soulmates as distinguished from those apple-of-knowledge corrupted, post-Eden fleshmates (as in the practices of The Brethren of the Free Spirit * [see:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brethren_of_the_Free_Spirit], influenced by the “free spirit” sermons of Meister Eckart [http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meister_Eckhart] of the Middle Ages.)

This toxic malady, these melancholic and malicious but sublimely heartbreaking hallucinations of loving and being loved in return; they hasten my madness.

–Stephen Bort (2011)

[*  Free Spirit heretics were accused of enjoying group sex, of conducting masses naked, claiming that they were God and, in one instance, that there was no God and that blind chance ruled the universe. Historian Barbara Tuchman vividly conjures up this vision of moral and religious anarchy in her seminal book on the Middle Ages, A Distant Mirror, :

“The Brethren of the Free Spirit, who claimed to be in a state of grace without benefit of priest or sacrament, spread not only doctrinal but civil disorder….Because the Free Spirit believed God to be in themselves, not in the Church, and considered themselves in a state of perfection without sin, they felt free to do all things commonly prohibited to ordinary man. Sex and property headed the list. They practiced free love and adultery and were accused of indulging in group sex in their communal residences. They encouraged nudity to demonstrate absence of sin and shame. As ‘holy beggars’, the Brethren claimed the right to use and take whatever they pleased, whether a market woman’s chickens or a meal in a tavern without paying. This included the right, because of God’s immanence, to kill anyone who forcibly attempted to interfere” (A Distant Mirror: the Calamitous Fourteenth Century 1979)]

–Stephen Bort (2011)

~

Nature Boy

There was a boy / A very strange enchanted boy / They say he wandered very far, very far / Over land and sea / A little shy and sad of eye / But very wise was he

And then one day / A magic day he passed my way / And while we spoke of many things / Fools and kings / This he said to me / “The greatest thing you’ll ever learn / Is just to love and be loved in return”

“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn / Is just to love and be loved in return”

–eden ahbez (1947)

~

Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago, / In a kingdom by the sea, / That a maiden there lived whom you may know / By the name of Annabel Lee; / And this maiden she lived with no other thought / Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child, / In this kingdom by the sea: / But we loved with a love that was more than love — / I and my Annabel Lee; / With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven / Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago, / In this kingdom by the sea, / A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling / My beautiful Annabel Lee; / So that her highborn kinsmen came / And bore her away from me, / To shut her up in a sepulchre / In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven, / Went envying her and me — / Yes! — that was the reason (as all men know, / In this kingdom by the sea) / That the wind came out of the cloud by night, / Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love / Of those who were older than we — / Of many far wiser than we — / And neither the angels in heaven above, / Nor the demons down under the sea, / Can ever disever my soul from the soul / Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams / Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; / And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes / Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; / And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side / Of my darling — my darling — my life and my bride, / In her sepulchre there by the sea, / In her tomb by the sounding sea.

–Edgar Allan Poe (1849)

Flying Dutchman's Ship

Flying Dutchman’s Ship

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