Love Happened

The reason I wait until the end of the month to write all four of my monthly pieces is procrastination. Or maybe it’s because that’s how long it takes me to know what the hell is going on. Maybe those two reasons are the same thing. In fact, it is the end of January and I still don’t know what the hell is going on, it’s just that I can’t get time to stop long enough for me to figure it out. The calendar is closing in and I have no choice but to write things I don’t yet understand.

I awoke early this morning to record tracks for a podcast I am working on alongside my partner about love and relationships. It took hours. I haven’t recovered. For the story we had to return over and over again to our first meeting, the first time we knew that we were safe with each other, the first time we knew that we were in love. At a certain point in the session, I realized that we were toying with something sacred, something vulnerable and precious. I wasn’t sure if it was right, or if I wanted to keep doing it. I found myself wanting to stop, but I had committed to the job, and it’s very hard for me to stop once I’ve committed to the job. I have to figure it out.

Still afterwards when we finally ended the recording session, I felt drained and spent, unable to do anything more with my day, even thought it was only 11 am. I sat on the couch. I played a video game about a bird trying to reach the top of a mountain so she can make a phone call. I stopped after 20 minutes because I still did not have enough feathers to reach the peak and it was making me sad. I had emails to…