Saturday, May 28, 2011


I love men.  I love masculine energy.  And I love the differences between the sexes.  I love what we bring out in each other, and how the soul, bathed in the hormones that belong to each of our particular bodies, influence how we engage with each other.

And for years and years, and I do mean years, I have put that love of men aside, concentrating instead on my love of G*d.  And my love for G*d is pretty big.  It had, for a very long time, become everything to me.  But I find that it isn't sufficient for everything. It is sufficient for all the things it is - but so insufficient for what it isn't.

I miss who I am in relationship with men.  I miss the energy of exploring relationships and connections and possibilities where the only thing you can really know is yourself.  I miss that feeling of how satisfying it is to make a place of comfort and belonging for a man, for that kind of taking care that women especially seem to enjoy.  I miss the excitement of discovery in relationship in all the ways it unfolds.

I miss the satisfaction that comes from cooking and cleaning and showing love in all sorts of practical little ways, of letting someone know how special they are, and that they are special to you.  And I miss being that myself.

I know there's nothing perfect about human love.  I know that the only eternal, unchanging and perfect love is G*d's love.  But what would I be if I didn't share that a little wider than the circle of my own small heart?  I don't think even G*d would be happy about that.


Wanderlust said...

Raising my cup of love potion. Clink, clink!

Catherine said...

me too.