The Soft Animal of My Body Loves...nothing?
How did you define love Mary? Maybe you struggled in the way I do.
Dear Mary,
You wrote that you “only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves”, but what’s an animal to do when they’re not sure what they love? What does it feel like to be present in love? To allow yourself to feel it before it’s gone? Is it the feeling I get during the first salty swim of the summer? Or the irresistible urge to squeeze my dog? I’ve never known romantic love—that much I know for sure. But, at a minimum, shouldn’t I have an answer available if someone were to ask my how I love to spend my time? There’s ways I like to spend my time, but love? Love seems like a stretch.
How did you define love Mary? Maybe you struggled in the way I do. After all, the next line of your poem is “tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine”.
Maybe love is so large, so abstract, and so powerful that it can only be truly recognized after the things we used to see, hear, feel, touch and smell are gone. Maybe it’s not about being present in love, but about being open to receiving and giving love. Maybe love is just the goal post. What do you think about that Mary?
That much I know I can do. I can let love lead. It takes constant recalibration and regular taming of my animal mind, but I can let it lead. When I do I move differently. My body feels more solid, more grounded. My mind sharper. The opposite of the girl stumbling over her words in a rom-com. I stumble when fear takes control.
I should probably take a walk now right Mary?
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - over and over announcing your place in the family of things.
🩵🩵love this, and Mary!