My love life…raw, naked…

There was nothing I could do. The sky was a naked, empty canvas. A nothingness. Images were flashing through my mind. Images filled with laughter. Images filled with comfort through the tears. Images of holding hands. Such a simple thing. Holding a hand. Simple yet powerful. A support during long nights, through pain, through laughter.

You don’t need much in this life, not really. Healthy food on the table, a roof over your head and a certain level of comfort, being surrounded by a nice environment is enough. The secret, or not so secret needs, of the heart though, are much different. They are the ones that will whisper quietly, yet with strength; they are the ones that will keep you up at night. They are the ones that rule you, if you let them. Maybe you are in charge, maybe they are. I don’t know, but you heart will ache with those desires…ache…

I’m not sure if we were born with them, or if we were brought up to believe in them; if fate by chance, or purpose placed them in our lives. If it’s a cruel joke, or a divine plan. If it’s a choice, or a prison. I really don’t know. All I know is that since I was a kid I’ve had a restlessness in my heart. Maybe restless is the wrong word, maybe passion, or desire the right one. From time to time it has been a man who got hold of my heart and made me twist and turn in my sleep, wondering how it was humanly possible to long for something, or someone so much? Did I choose it? Why? Why him, why then? Why still now? Why long for the impossible? An illusion, or a reality? It keeps changing, whom the heart belongs to. Most oftenly though, it has been other things that have made my heart flutter with excitement, or ache with pain. A longing. Always a longing. To do. To do that which I love the most. I always wanted a nice lifestyle, I cannot deny that. I wanted to play with some toys. What propelled me though wasn’t only the cash, or the glory. It was a longing to do. My greatest gift wouldn’t have been a million to buy a house for, my greatest gift would have been a million to play with. Make movies and create companies. Tell stories. Help people. Creating positive change. Play. Play with the desire. Set my spirit free within it. Live. Live as I desire.

I’m happy today. I’m happy most days these days. I don’t think I’ve ever before felt so fulfilled, so calm somehow. I’m no longer dancing to other people’s tunes so much. The need for fame and glory has subsided drastically too. I still want to impress at times, prove my worth, but it’s getting less and less. Not only have I realized that I cannot make people love me that way, I also see the futility of it all. One man down, one man up. There’s really no point. There’s a point to excel, to drive humanity forwards. To help. There is no point to be glorified more than as an inspiration for others and that really doesn’t have anything to do with the glory. They should not seek to do what you did for glory, for fame, or fortune. They should seek to do so because you made a positive difference. Because they know they can live their fullest potential also. For inner satisfaction and outer change. No one is a hero. Everyone is a hero. There are so many successful people who know nothing of success and so many failures that are successes. Happiness. Fulfilled desires. Call it what you may.

The happiest I’ve ever been is jumping through waves. Free. No worries. No stress. No ego. Surrounded by fun people and an environment I love. Simplicity. Like sitting fishing in summer, or scrubbing potatoes on the beach, preparing a fire for dinner. I’ve experienced it in different places around the world and the common elements were nature, the beach, people, love, a willingness to let go and simplicity. The voice in my heart never quiets down though. It doesn’t matter where I am or what I do. Propelling me forward. It screams of a need to create. Constantly. Maybe it is about living to my full potential? But surely you must be able to do that in every moment already? Even if you can’t execute all your ideas in one go? I don’t know, but it always drove me nuts. It only quiets when I’m in the middle of something. Something that I can actually do. Not a company that will be launched in a year, but a play that is being put on right now, or a painting that will be done in a minute. Yet, the company that will be launched in a year is what I truly want to do.

I always wondered what the people without it felt? Or if anyone is truly without it? That urge, that pain, that itch that propels you forward towards your dreams. Sometimes it tires me – I never see an end to it. When one idea has been executed, another arrives. It’s never silent. At the same time it invigorates me, makes me fly, makes my heart beat faster, makes me grounded, makes me feel on fire, makes me happy, satisfies me. When I get to do it. It’s a choice though to do it. It just doesn’t always pay the bills. Not until you get the hang of it. I have already written about that – all the twists and turns of my life. All the little cross roads, the wrong turns, the hard years…now it feels better. I guess, like any drug addict, I’ve learnt to control it. Learnt that you can only do what you love if you also pay the bills. You have to be realistic, yet you have to be unrealistic and keep pursuing. You have to find a plan, because sure as hell the end product is not where you begin, yet you have to let your dreams lose. Free to fly as they wish.

At the same times it has also been a long road of setting myself free. Of not just living within my field, within my work. Learning to allow myself to be me, to be passionate without regrets, to live as I choose without judging in real life. Work was always my outlet. Where I allowed myself to do exactly what I wanted to do. Where I felt free and confident. Where I was happy.

When it all crashed I learnt that I had to live everywhere in my life. Not just within one thing. I didn’t only want to live through work. I didn’t want it to be my only outlet. I wanted to be me all over. It’s a liberating thing that. Being yourself and being confident. Confident that you can handle whatever life throws at you, full well knowing life can throw anything at you. I love my life. I can honestly say that now. After all these years.

Sliding doors…

Isn’t it funny, if you look back on your life and think about all the small co-incidences that have taken you to where you are now? Like how you googled one thing, found something else and it totally changed your life? Or how you decided to attend that one party instead of another and you met your new boss or lover?

I could talk about a zillion such co-incidences (because let’s face it – our lives are made of them – every lover you ever met, every friend, every job offer, every adventure…they were all just co-incidences), but for today, I will stick with one: Isabel Allende. (If you want to know more about the co-incidences in my life these posts will do it: Paris… and Magical meetings and serendipity…)

I fell in love with Isabel Allende at the tender age of seventeen – I was having an awful time living in Vancouver and this little lady made me smile as she stood in the middle of a church describing how she knew she had overcome a depression after dreaming sex dreams about Antonio Banderas swimming in rice pudding. Now, I don’t know about you, but I think food and sex are perfect companions. So much so, that I am setting up a company that deals with the two put together…no it’s probably not what you think, it’s better than that (what were you thinking?…). I can’t tell you the entire concept, as that would spoil the surprise, but I will let you know when we open.

Of course there are a few other influences than Allende for my business – a dash of Branson, a sprinkle of Moulin Rouge, a slice of my best friend and a teaspoon of my business partner and a few cups of a certain chef or two…but I’ll leave the details for my autobiography. For now, I’ll leave you in Allende’s hands:

This is the part where I have to get personal and talk about romance.

My books force me to travel frequently. My karma is to stumble from one place to another, like a wandering pilgrim. In l987, while still living in Venezuela, I went on a lecturing tour that took me from Iceland to Puerto Rico, and many other climates in between, until I ended up in Northern California. Little did I suspect that there my fate would change again. I met the man that was written in my destiny, as my mother would say. He was an American lawyer called William Gordon, who was introduced to me as the last heterosexual bachelor in San Francisco. He had read my second novel and liked it. When he saw me he was thoroughly disappointed, however: he likes tall blondes.

After my speech we were invited to a dinner party in an Italian restaurant. There was a full moon and Frank Sinatra was singing “Strangers in the Night”, the kind of stuff that would ruin a novel. Willie was sitting in front of me, observing me with a puzzled expression. The combination of Frank Sinatra and spaghetti tutto mare had a predictable effect on me: I fell in lust. I had been living in chastity for a very long time… two or three weeks as I recall, so I took the initiative. I asked him to tell me his life. This trick always works, ladies! Ask any man to talk about himself and pretend to listen while you relax and enjoy your meal, and he will end up convinced that you are a smart and sexy gal. In this case, however, I did not have to pretend. Soon I realized I had stumbled upon one of those rare gems that storytellers are always looking for: that man’s life was a novel! So I did what any normal Latin American female writer would have done: marry the man to get the story. Well, I didn’t marry him right away, it took some fine manipulation.

First he invited me to his house. I was expecting a romantic evening in a divorcee’s penthouse overlooking the Golden Gate bridge, soft jazz, champagne and smoked salmon. I got nothing of the sort. There was so much dog crap in the garage, that he had to pull back so that I could step out of the car. His youngest son, a ten year old brat, greeted us with rubber bullets. The golden retriever as hyperactive as the kid, placed his muddy paws on my shoulders and slurped on my face. There were other pets: a couple of maniac rats in a filthy cage chewing on each other’s tails, and dead fish floating in the slimy waters of an aquarium. I didn’t flinch. Lust does that to some people, it gives them an heroic attitude. I liked the man and I wanted to hear the rest of his story. He served a burnt chicken, we drank cheap California wine, and I will skip the rest. The next day, when he took me to the airport, I asked him politely if we had any sort of commitment. He turned chalk-pale and his hands trembled so vigorously that he had to pull over. I didn’t know that you never EVER mention the word commitment in front of an American male.
- What are you talking about, we just met! he mumbled, terrified.
- I am 45 and I have no time to waste, I said. I need to know if this thing is serious or not.
- What thing?- he asked befuddled.

That day I took the plane, but a week later I was back without an invitation. I moved into his house and six months later he had to marry me because I pinned him against the wall.

Isabel Allende

Well…

Have a bite of me…

Three is a magic number…or so they say. On Friday night a friend of mine asked me a question. Then I was talking to another friend about it yesterday. Today yet another friend of mine told me a story about it. In other words: This question came up three nights in a row.

What was the question? How do you know when you have found “the one”?

I tried answering the question on Friday night. I said I think it’s someone with whom you have a “soul connection,” someone whom you can be with, without having to be something/someone with. The person is someone who sees you for who you truly are and understands you. Someone with whom you connect emotionally, physically and intellectually. Someone with whom you can share your life – you have a common vision for where you are going and you enjoy turning that vision into reality together.

My answer, of course, did not answer the question. I stated what I think a soul mate would be like. I did not answer how I’d know. Simply because I don’t know. I mean sooner, or later, I guess I would figure out if someone matches my description of a soul mate – feel if that kind of connection is there – but I don’t know if that takes a second, a year, or a lifetime. I believe that as soon as you meet someone you know if there’s a sparkle or not, but that’s rather different from knowing if it’s a complete fit.

The story my friend told me today goes a little something like this: A man and a woman were walking toward each other on the street. They both noticed one another from far away. They both liked what they saw and had an urge to speak to one another. As the man walked even closer to the woman he thought to himself that he really must say something to her, but as he came up to her he was lost for words. As soon as he had passed her though, he stopped and turned around. He noticed that the woman, too, had stopped. When she also turned around and their eyes met they both laughed.

The man and the woman spent the day together in a park. They walked around and talked for hours. They both thought that they were each other’s perfect match. That it was a 100% fit, yet they did not know if this was really so, because how could they know? What would be the ultimate proof?

After much talking, finally, the woman came up with an idea: If they left each other now, without exchanging their full names, addresses, or phone numbers, and if they met again by chance, then that would be the proof that they were really meant for one another.

As the years passed by both of them found other lovers, got married and had children. Yet, they never again found anyone with whom they felt they were a perfect match and both of them ended up being divorced.

As faith would have it, they passed each other by on the street one day. They noticed one another. They recognized something familiar in the other person, but they did not know who the other person was, so they both just kept walking.

Both of them spent their lives wondering what would have happened if they had gotten together with that one person they once bumped into that felt like a perfect match, yet they did not seize the chance when they had it simply because they did not know what would happen.  They weren’t certain of the outcome, so they never tried.

This story reminds me of Before Sunrise and Before Sunset. They are my favorite movies and they tell the tale of a young man and woman spending one magical night together in Vienna, leaving each other with a promise that next year they will meet again at the same time, at the same spot. The problem is that the next year the woman gets stuck in Paris and can’t make it. Years later, as the man passes by Paris to promote his book, which basically describes their night together, they meet again. They meet because the woman, after reading the book, realizes who wrote it. So she comes to see him when he is promoting his book. They spend the day together, talking about what has happened since they last met, what would have happened if they had exchanged numbers and conclude that they were fools for not doing so. They get a second chance, but pretty much only because the man did not leave it to chance – he wrote a whole book to try to find her again.

I guess what these stories tell us is that unless we take charge and decide to try something out, we will never find out.

It’s all very well to drool over a cake – it can look fabulous, smell wonderful and be presented in the most amazing way, but unless you bite into it you will never find out how it tastes, or what the texture feels like. It may end up being an unpleasant surprise, or the most marvellous experience. However, if you don’t try it, you will spend the rest of your life wondering what it would have tasted like.

I still don’t know the answer to the question, but I think next time I see a cake I like I shall have a bite… So go bite someone, why don’t you?