“I disappear into the one that I love. I am the permeable membrane. If I love you, you can have it all. My money, my time, my body, my dog, my dog’s money. I will assume your debts and project upon you all sorts of nifty qualities that you never cultivated in yourself. I will give you all this and more until I am so exhausted and depleted that the only way I can recover is by becoming infatuated with someone else.”
A line from “Eat, Pray, Love” that filled me with a mixture of loathing and longing. How deplorable it is that anyone should love to the point of depletion and exhaustion. How horrific that anyone should project qualities unowned. Yet, how genuine to live a boundless, expansive, selfless love. Truly it is in the polarity of these where insight lurks. The actor speaks of infatuation which is as powerful and intoxicating as love, perhaps more so. Its host usually an easy find. The impetus? Flight! Flight from that unbearable dread where alone one is forced to face that unsettling freedom that would leave you groundless, without purpose, direction, reason for being! Better to strive to fill that void, and transfer that responsibility to one’s host where pseudo investedness becomes one’s master and one’s direction. A heart filled, is a heart with hope for a future worthy of life after all. Yet, this is not love. Love is borne out of mutuality, harvested through a reciprocity of spirit, tried and worn for all its intense historicity. “Love is blind”, it is said, and this might account for seeing what is not there. Projection is to be found in the magic box of the infatuated for whom the other is mere host. Yet, love is mutuality; it is in-sight, creating both a sense of home and un-home; the grounder and shaker of being; the unconditioned conditionality. It is unsettlingly settling. Such is love really. Choosing it every day is that active force of love which has poets speak of its eternal nature, a hold uninterrupted by misappropriations, separation, disruptions, or eruptions.