Sunday, December 28, 2008

Love Grows in the Wilderness

Before something ends, it is customary that we look back a little and wrap up on things- events that occurred, places we went to - anything that transcended our lives.

My love story commenced this year.

It went like this. I was innocently playing in the field like a sheep in spring when this… this tall, hairy brute that looks like… (scroll below), bottle in hand, appeared among the trees then walked towards me in long strides and said, “I love you (hic) … and I want you (hic)… so badly.”

I was thinking, albeit a little hesitant to pay attention because he looked intimidating, Who the hell are you, deranged lunatic?

Admittedly, for all my being commander in chief at the kitchen, I am extremely aloof with men in real life: the first to be nervous, and the last to decide – when yes means no, and no means maybe. On the other hand, I am always expecting that the man should impress the woman -a woman is nature’s most impressive creature anyway, she doesn’t have to try too hard.

Anyway, I saw this - let’s call him for now, Attila the Hun* - and what made me a little half afraid was the possibility that in the middle of the night, he’s most likely to shout, “Spartaaaaaa!!!”- at the height of passion than whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

Would you trust this man?

Talk about being wooed. This barbarian has a hypnotic charm that just got me.

The persistent wooing of Mr. Hun took some weeks until my heart softened like butter for pastry… and I started asking a few questions to him. In my heart, an unmasked affection blooms.

It is said that sheep people are secretive. Soon, myself and Mr. Hun had to escape the mad crowd of our working lives and sought some privacy in the field. Mr. Hun turned out to be a perfect gentleman despite my lunatic first impression.

Fortunately those trysts (where we rolled in the grass like animals gone wild) have never been in vain as I learned many things of my trade, reinvented my soul, and spoke amorosities in four languages (an ability I never knew I ever possessed). We read Neruda sonnets and food odes, ate ice cream, and talked what little we know about philosophy, existentialism, and Bushido and paintings and monks, watched the seasons…kissed like there was no tomorrow… until the stars disappeared in the horizon. We both agree too, that the Cirque du Soleil can give you that high without having to take off your clothes.

But one great lesson I learned is, for the survival and propagation of the species, bed skills are more important than kitchen skills. Oh yes!

FH: At a scale of 10, how would you rate yourself?
AtH: At what?
FH: In… bed?
AtH: (laughs) Hmmm…I know you’d ask me that...
AtH: 12.7?

No comment.

To cut the story short, oh, yes, despite the tugging and pulling, and loving and the resistance, the Huntress did have a strong emotion towards the Hun. He had about a dozen knives and is very skilled with all of them; can hunt, fish, and wrestle than me much better… and has a strong temper he could bomb cars (has no effect on me, though). And the truth is, I like men better when they have fire in their eyes. They are the ones who blaze the trails of life. Which he definitely has.

But what Mr. Hun has told me- and I too believed- love is not about the postcard perfect-picture of lovers nor the ring on our finger. While all of that is necessary us being physical and social creatures, them too will fade away for in the end , we are ethereal and spiritual creatures (his favorite terms). At the end of the tunnel, everything is posted with newspapers. Love, then, is all about formlessness. It has no structure- no cookie cutter expectations about how one should be. It doesn't matter if both of you are seriously flawed- love is continuous and seems to be always existing. You use it – to change your life, straighten your path in the woods, or rearrange your destiny- and love will never wear out.

Love manifests in the NOW – who you are, who you were, and who you will become.

Of course, my love story with the Hun, inexhaustible and perfect as it is…continues. The universe only adds to that which we already have.


“…In you, the tongue receives a kiss, from ocean night:
Taste imparts to every seasoned dish your essence;
in you, I taste infinitude. “

-Pablo Neruda, Ode to Salt

*Name has been changed to protect privacy. We have to borrow photos…because it is a crime to publish his.

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