(Before we start; you could possibly regret it forever, if you didn’t listen to this unplugged version, at least that is how I felt after hearing this heavenly song…)

Mobile phone version here (another version of the song also)

What is the price of passion?  Why do we fight like this, if we’ll just love each other to death? 

I looked at my hand, incredulously; the blood in the veins inside it, pounding against the skin furiously, in pain. I had done something I never had before; I had punched my hand into the wall of our apartment, mid-argument, and now my hand hurt as hell, and little good did it do, in terms of finding a resolution.

Yes… I wouldn’t have believed this story myself, if not for some darkness, to threaten our garden of Eden…. After all, what is the Bible without the story of the snake? The balance, where darkness abounds, but light will soon shine down on that darkness in a white and golden bliss…

Where light has ruled for too long though, darkness will seep into the cracks, attempting to overturn things. That is just the rebellious nature of darkness; The spirit of Lucifer, the everlasting fight between good and evil. It’s been here as long as anyone can remember. Why should mr. X and I be excluded from this fight, from darkness, when no one else had escaped it, on this Earth?

Even an extreme fire, burning through your skin and into your naked heart, will not escape this darkness… And so it hit us, too. After a few months of Heaven, the storms appeared on the horizon. It wasn’t every day, not even every week. I don’t believe it was even every month. It was just, once in a while, when our differences in personality, age, and the added flammables, mixed together inevitably, the skies would turn black for both of us… We were both stubborn, strong. There was beauty in our destruction. We could both find ourselves yelling at the other, it happened that one of us slammed a fist in a table, or against a wall, as in my case, although I only did that once…

andreas-achenbach-85762_960_720

It was strange, cause most of the time, none of us even knew how the fight had started, as dark grey storm clouds don’t know who bumped into who first; they just notice that lightning strikes down on Earth, because of it. I thought of our fights, and as much as I regretted them; I could never regret us. There was never any fear in our fights; never anyone oppressing the other, just two wolves within the same tribe, showing their muscles and trying to avert any threat to their superiority. We were both proud, to be ruled by no one, and living together naturally brought on a lot of decisions. Neither of us were ready to be bent, by the power of another. Our proud spirits would rather have us break, than admit defeat…

We got a bit better at it with time, but still, the sky could turn dark suddenly, after three weeks of sunshine and blue skies, and we were both just as perplexed to see it happen before our eyes. The fights would always be shortlived, we would always make up fast. Our version of making up would be as rough, or rougher, than the fights themselves; He would pin me to the bed and take me, still in the beast mood of the fight…  Or I would get enough mid-fight and push him towards the wall; look at the wild, dark little curls of his hair against the white wall, look into his green eyes and say: “Enough of this, now”. He would never argue: just in a mesmerized state, he would let me have my way with him. I liked that he would become powerless to my touch; he lost all his defenses. He just closed his eyes and called a silent cease-fire, as he was pressed against the wall, and I made my way down, to torture him to his breaking point; just to retreat to the bedroom, so he had to chase me there…

In some ways we were truly beasts, the alpha male/alpha female, measuring each other up, taking turns dominating each other. But we were also angels, touching each other, and speaking to one another with heavenly grace, in the angelic tongue, that none of us had ever known before…

I was never at any point afraid that mr. X would hurt me, in any way, during our fights. We always made up, and we were both just as involved. Just as nature intended it, and that was fine by me.

What happened the rest of the time worried me much more. My happiness had reached almost absurd levels; I was even trying out a new “art form” that I would never have thought of, either before or after this “moving in” scenario. I went online and bought cloth, and frames. I chose “obscure and spiritual” fabrics, exquisite silk and the like. And once I got it delivered,  I put into frames, and thought of it as – art. Admittedly, our strange “paintings”, got a lot of admiration from visitors to our home, but still… I’m not sure to this day, what made me pursue this strange “art project”. In the balcony though, I made much progress as a hobby gardener; I planted azaleas, morning glories, dahlias, and a bunch of different herbs. Mr. X looked at me like I was Freya, the ancient goddess of nature, growth and fertility. He was only into mechanics; still didn’t mean he didn’t go lifting the protective plastic on my planted seeds. He was excited to see them grow, like a child watching a miracle.

There were so many moments of pure tenderness, the likes of which I could never have believed was possible for a human being to experience outside Heaven. If I got home before mr. X, as soon as he stepped in, I would run towards him, and literally throw myself at him, in a hug that resembled a car crash. This never stopped, during the whole time we were living together. I could see that he got a deep satisfaction out of it; here was his woman; ecstatic simply by the fact that he was home. I guess a lot of men would feel they were special, if a woman’s face lit up like a carneval, just because they came home…

We were irresponsible; children “playing house”. We found an online game, that we both loved, cause it was interactive, and we could play it with friends and have a laugh, while escaping the harsh realities we faced in our everyday work; he, as a police officer, and me, a sort of social worker who sometimes met people in absolute despair.

If I would ask mr. X what he wanted for dinner, he would say; please, please, make that mince meat sauce with the pasta, that you do! Even if I tried a hundred recipes, and he enjoyed them all, this mince meat sauce I made, made his face light up like a person who had been on a desert island, starving. Mr. X himself couldn’t cook, to save his own life…

One time I arrived home, and he knew my job was exhausting, so he had tried to cook, to make things easier on me. I chewed my way all through that rubber piece of meat he had prepared, with almost no spices whatsoever… I ate it out of love, and when his face, like the pup of a wolf, lit up almost  as if I could see him wagging his tail under the table, I said that it was “very good”. I ate the whole thing, like eating a sole of a shoe. Now, if that is not love, I do not know what is. I wanted him to feel that I loved his effort. And there was no way to do that, except loving his food, however awful it was. Mr. X himself didn’t look too satisfied with that meal, and after that, I always made the food in the house, and he helped out with cleaning and laundry.

One day, about six months after we had moved into this Kingdom of Love, as we were watching all the seeds now grown into little plants, ready to be put out on the balcony, I just had to ask. My heart could not be still anymore. I was 29 years old, and not getting younger, and I loved this man-boy, more than I had loved anyone in this life. As he was helping me move out the fragile, light green seedlings onto the balcony, I simply blurted it out. I couldn’t have stopped myself, even if there would’ve been a bomb going off in the neighborhood:

“I just want to have children with you, what do you say?”. 

The silence surrounding me, as the granite grey clouds rolled in from the west, was as deafening as any thunder storm that has ever been heard on this Earth.

images (9).jpg

 

To Be Continued…..