A song I posted a few posts ago – I am Not Alone (Kari Jobe) – been listening to it over & over, over the past hour or so. As i lunched, having the song plugged in, I found myself being reminded of a scene in my life where it hurts, and the next replay, another scene where I have lost a part of me somewhere. Each scene / area of loss, is specific, Utterly specific. You know, when sometimes it is in your face, and you are confronted with it, and you have no words to talk yourself out of it. It is THAT specific.
One thing that I have been searching for, or perhaps trying to prove to Abba, is that there is someone else who can know me intimately. Every thought, dream, fear etc. Over the past year, a desire for someone to deeply know me, for who I am, to listen to me progressively, like appreciating a glass of aged wine – so many layers to the taste, yet surprisingly fresh & new. I’ve tried compartmentalising – some knows me to some parts, some to know me for some other aspects.
Conclusion so far: one can know one, even intimately, but somehow, unable to love unconditionally. I am incapable of that of course. There are times when you appreciate ones in your life, there are times when you feel like wringing their necks. Accepting a person as a whole takes time, and some amount of effort & openness to risks. Yet, sometimes when I’ve worked myself up to accepting the person as much as I know how to & becoming committed to work on that, they have decided to move on, sometimes too fast too soon. Or at times, I know I need some time-out from some people, in order that I can keep a clear mind & heart, to hear from the One who matters.
It is true as sages of old have shared: emotional intimacy is the true foundation of physical intimacy. No matter how one tries to work around it, without the emotional commitment, the physical means nothing more than 15-30 minutes of physical exchanges. The damage, however, is a lot more than a torn hymen. There is a crave that is created, unnecessarily prematurely, and insatiable thirst for another go at “intimacy”. It feels too real, too overwhelming to be less than what it is – intimacy. It can be easily, and has been, mistaken as a building emotional / soul intimacy. After each “statisfaction” seems to lead to more dissatisfaction, more thirst, deeper yearnings, which unfortunately will not be deeply satisfied cos there is no emotional intimacy.
Most of all, it robs the intimacy with the Lover who knows me through & through, who sees me thoroughly, yet accepts & loves me to the max, who will respond to every single unsightly murmur & groans in my heart.
Like a prodigal, I am being courted once again, for the umpteenth time…
Each scene, each cringe, each tear…