I wish I could promise my (one or two!) readers that my daily posts will segue seamlessly from one to the next, but I can already see that this will not be the case. I can promise, however, to "be bold", in the words of yesterday's post. I will try to have the courage to say the kinds of things I couldn't bring myself to come out directly and say several years ago.
In the past, I may have mentioned my love of Mary Balogh romance novels. The topic seems frivolous compared to yesterday's post, but bear with me.
The fact is that I have decided to dedicate this entire day to love, in any form I can find. Now, a case could be made that this is a decidedly stupid thing to do, given that I must move yet again by the end of the month, and I have no idea where to go. In theory, of course, I should be using this new computer of mine to go on a frenzied search for low-income housing. But no option that I can envision for anywhere in this country -- even if I had a fortune -- interests me or seems to be able to pull me out of what has become a case of chronic PTSD when it comes to moving. Wherever it may end up being, I'll be lucky if I have the energy to throw my few belongings willy-nilly into shopping bags. The days of my being the most organized and efficient mover on the planet seem to be over...
So. Love. Worse still, romantic love. I mean, as a mystic and someone who really hasn't experienced genuine romantic or partnership love, it seems strange even to me how much I love Balogh's books. And given that I'm envisioning the eventual collapse of the very systems that created the upper crust Regency world she describes, you'd think I would loathe such reading. You'd think I would loathe Jane Austen novels and the movies made from them. (Part of my list for today is the "only" Pride and Prejudice, with Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth.) But no, I love them.
The aristocratic homes these books are set in are, for whatever reason, more "home" to me than any of the dozens I have ever actually lived in. I've always just reveled in their beauty. The homes themselves are beautiful architecturally, filled with beauty, and surrounded by beauty. No matter how my logical mind delights in pointing out the seeming impossibility of my ever being able to afford such an abode and the fact that this social construct has already largely disappeared. I still feel that I could walk onto the grounds of an English stately home and finally, genuinely, be at home. It's a paradox, as is most of my life.
But in 2021, my heart is drawn primarily to the actual romances between the man and the woman in any given story. Oh, of course, the gimmick in all Balogh's books is that the two people are completely mis-matched, whether in terms of their personalities, their stations in life, or their families. Some consideration threatens, through most of the book, to derail an early attraction, but when all hope is lost, they come together.
For me, I suppose most people would consider all hope lost. Even if I weren't literally as old as the hills, finding a man who could love a woman who's already got two passions (England/choral evensong and women's spirituality) seems improbable. And for me to relax enough of my feminism to deeply love a man seems improbable too, though it is what I have always wanted. I learned so little about love in my family; I struggle to imagine being cherished, and having anyone say, "I want you safe, and I want you with me for the rest of my life"...except for what I have read in Mary Balogh's books. Passionate people and loving families inhabit her world, and I read the books over and over to understand what that kind of love would feel like, to try to train my soul to recognize the real thing. These stories help me to understand that, even now, I am worthy of giving and receiving such undying love. I talk a lot about love as the only power in the world, but so much of my understanding is still awfully global, spiritual, and intellectual. I keep inching closer to feeling love in my heart.
So as soon as I hit "publish", I'll finish my Mary Balogh novel, watch the remaining episodes of Pride and Prejudice, eat foods that I love, watch the birds at the feeder, knit for a while, and perhaps take a walk. I am thankful for the freedom to spend an entire day "in love".
