Don't Give Me Fire

I wrote a post a few years ago called “What I'm Looking For,” and I've decided that my list needs amending. I feel this necessary because I recently re-read it, and it contains almost nothing of what I am truly looking for in a significant other anymore. I guess a divorce can have that effect, but I am far from being bitter about what I learned and how I have changed. In fact, I have accepted it and count all that happened as a tremendous blessing. I am responding to myself here. So... without further ado:

Give me water.

To borrow Bruce Lee's words: “If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot. Water can flow, or it can crash.” Water adapts to its obstacles rather than trying to burn and pillage its way through the middle of them. No matter how hot the lava, it stops dead when it encounters water. The hotter the fire, the faster it burns out.

Despite all that happened I am grateful for fire. I have shaken off the ashen dust, and been forged anew.

Still, give me water. Give me assured steps. I am looking for a fullness. Give me the good and the bad. I want your messiness, your hidden fears and hopes. Let me help you carry them. All I ask is for the same in return. I want to face the devastations and heartbreaks of life hand in hand with you—even when one of us is the cause. Fyodor Dostoevsky said that, “To be in love is not the same as loving. You can be in love with a woman and still hate her.” When the storms rage upon that vast and mighty sea—as they surely will—I want an anchor, not a bonfire. When moments such as these arise, I want to feel your hand tighten around mine. I want someone to remind me that beyond those dark, swelling clouds there is beaming, furious sunlight, and that a still more glorious dawn awaits. And in exchange I will shelter you from the shrieking wind and hold you if you weep. I will be that rock that can lend you strength and guide you home. This is what I want because this is something I know I can give.

I now yearn for wholeness. Carl Jung said, “Wholeness is not achieved by cutting off a portion of one's being, but by integration of the contraries.” I do not want one-dimensional dependence or blind, burning romance alone. I also long for sure and steady—a romance that has its passion defined by fierce devotion and loyalty. Contrary to popular belief, this isn't boring. A relationship such as this needn't lack spontaneity or fun. It retains both, while never losing sight of eternal progress. I want my romance to dance around the fire of passion while staying focused on the North Star, never mesmerized by a waning moon—though often brighter.

Nothing else matters. All of the lists of similarities, qualities, and compatibilities are shivering, shallow caveats that often smack of insecurity. I want someone who truly understands that “the world moves for love. It kneels before it in awe.” And if a mountain arises that threatens to stop all that we hold dear, I want someone willing to laugh with me and wait, knowing that, given time, water can cut granite.

You can keep your fire; I prefer the constancy of water.

One of the most romantic scenes I have ever seen in a movie.
[Source: "The Best Years of Our Lives"]

PS - “Those who love you are not fooled by mistakes you have made or dark images you hold about yourself. They remember your beauty when you feel ugly; your wholeness when you are broken; your innocence when you feel guilty; and your purpose when you are confused.”- Alan Cohen

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