The Work of Love
A dive into first love and the work of growing in it
“Solen skinner saa skjønt og livligt ind i mit Værelse, Vinduet staaer aabent i det næste; paa Gaden er Alt stille, det er Søndag-Eftermiddag: jeg hører tydelig en Lærke, der uden for et Vindue i en af Naboegaardene slaaer sine Triller, uden for det Vindue, hvor den smukke Pige boer; langt borte fra en fjern Gade hører jeg en Mand raabe med Reier; Luften er saa varm, og dog er hele Byen som uddød. – Da mindes jeg min Ungdom og min første Kjærlighed – da længtes jeg, nu længes jeg kun efter min første Længsel. Hvad er Ungdom? En Drøm. Hvad er Kjærligheden? Drømmens Indhold.”
- “A,” Diapsalmata, #89, Enten/Eller (Søren Kierkegaard)
“The sun is shining brilliantly and beautifully into my room; the window in the next room is open. Everything is quiet out on the street. It is Sunday afternoon. I distinctly hear a lark warbling outside a window in one of the neighboring courtyards, outside the window where the pretty girl lives. Far away in a distant street, I hear a man crying “Shrimp for sale.” The air is so warm, and yet the whole city is as if deserted. –Then I call to mind my youth and my first love – when I was filled with longing; now I long only for my first longing. What is youth? A dream. What is love? The content of the dream.”
- “A,” Diapsalmata #89, Either/Or (Søren Kierkegaard)
When I was very young, I fell in love for the first time. I could feel it coming, that tidal wave of emotions, instability, bliss, drunkenness, and aliveness in a way previously unknown to me. But along with it came a choice — a very conscious one — materializing in my head as the air tensed with the wave’s approach. Is this what you want? Are you ready to fall in love? You do not have to; it is entirely up to you.
I had also never experienced such a confrontation within myself before. Direct and stark. I stood still for a moment. The world paused.
And then I decided: of course I will make the leap. I will plunge into the water and attempt to ride this infinite wave that is fast approaching. Too fast to avoid now anyway. And so, I jumped, and I fell.
The ocean is immense. My splash impacted no one except for me. Not the tide or the currents or the schools of fish or sharks, plankton, anemones, coral, seaweed, or the shrimp. My ripple disappeared as quickly as it had formed. But I was underwater, and it was certainly impacting me.
I suddenly found myself experiencing the world as I never had before. It was a wholly new awareness. A new state of being. It was exhilarating. It was also scary. The waves are terrifying. You have to swim with them to avoid certain doom — but as the winds change, you find yourself suddenly against them. The water’s rush is unrelenting. Take care, lest by swimming, you are drowning.
Very quickly, I had to churn water, while staying relaxed, alert to any creature that might want a snack of me or my beloved. It’s constant and merciless. There are times when you have to separate. Then, not only does the water and its dangers persist, but the sense of powerlessness sets in. Anything could happen while you remain apart, and the thought alone can drive you mad.
Then there are the storms. Now the waves are massive. The winds are powerful, the churn of the water overwhelming. Crushing. Water can snap your spine if you catch the wave just right.
Or else the doldrums. When the sea of love has peaked, it tumbles down until it settles, silences, arrives at stillness. For the deluge storm cannot last forever. It finds release, only to stop. The sun comes out as the clouds recede.
And suddenly, while floating on the surface, the world has paused once again. No more turbulence, no more swell, no more energy. Nothing happening but that I stay afloat. I’ve been in the water for quite some time. Osmosis permits a comingling of my body with the waters of the rolling deep.
After the rush of my initial plunge and the adjustment to the seemingly infinite waves, we come to a hush, a sense of peace. I no longer feel the blood pumping through my body. I’ve regained my mind. Clarity.
But already, it flickers. The stillness will not hold.
As if on cue, my nerve endings perceive a new sensation: the scorch of the sun’s rays. Reality on the surface burns.
The stillness was a mere lull, as is every lapse into the doldrums. I can either remain at the surface or plunge back beneath in hopes of finding the rush once more.
Out of the depths, I hear my name being called. “Come to me, Sousarion. Away from the sun’s fires, which will char you and cause you to loathe the sea of love you’re swimming in. Come away from there. Come to me.”
Become seared by the fires of the sun or submerge myself once more into the depths? There can hardly be a balance. It is an unyielding, unqualified choice. Either/or. And no avoiding it. I may have taken the initial plunge, but I had not expected this. I had expected none of it.
And it all remains a mystery.
My mind has hardly had a moment to catch up to the poundings of my heart, and to the awakened storm of sensations bursting around and within me. Wave after wave. It’s been wonderful. I’ve never felt so alive. And now I’m about to burst into flame upon the glassy skin of the sea. This too is a pain I had neither expected nor prepared for. I do not want to burn. Nor do I wish to drown. And yet I must avoid the ring of fire.
With that I dive once more.
Not a fall — this time I am aware, and prepared.
I only hope I have the strength to welcome the rush anew without letting the torrent overwhelm me. I could have drowned. I could have perished. I need to find a balance beneath the waves and come up for air from time to time. It’s a fragile steadiness, yet it holds.
Before, I dove without knowing how to breathe underwater.
Naked and naïve.
This time I’m measured, careful. Still embracing. I reject the dream. Yet I still love. It will be infinite but also limited, since without a limit that allows me to persist, the pressures of the deep will crush me. They will crush us.
No — that must not happen.
I’m diving into the water again, adjusting myself to the coolness of the motion. I swim much better now. Even so, I must improve. It will be difficult. It is a life’s work. This is the work of love. So much, so difficult, and still, so worth the toils and struggles.
Something for which I have the chance to make her proud.
Not only proud, but glad. Lucky. Happy.
It’s not impossible. We are actual and we will remain possible.
Keep swimming, keep loving. Be with me my partner. In sync and in tandem, one for the other, together. Conceive it. Then bring it into being — and be.
Take the plunge with me, my love.
Let’s swim and find our way.