Wild and Free

Sometimes I think I was preparing myself for middle age since I was a child. When I think about the albums that spoke to me then, they were records artists produced after 30. I would be 2 when I first heard the round mouth feel of the fretless bass in Joni Mitchell’s “Hejira”, a series of songs she wrote in her early 30’s.  Staring holes in my oatmeal just like I imagined Coyote. When, newly 20, I would hear “Wild Things Run Fast” (which she wrote on the doorstep of 40), I knew I was singing words that wouldn’t cut me deep enough for 2 decades.

They were stories of hearts that were at first hopeful, virginal and young. You can hear the stories evolve, morph and you can find those wounds that don’t  heal perfectly. There’s scar tissue. There’s a toughness.

As a young girl-human, I remember WANTING to have a broken heart. I longed to feel that melancholy for real and as I grew into a woman I practiced by falling in love with as many people as possible. I got to know a lot of hearts. It was like romantic anthropology.

In my mid thirties I found myself finally tired of the research. I was road weary and wasn’t even sure if I wanted anyone anymore. We’ve all heard the saying “when you finally give up, that’s when love happens.” But love had already happened. I already knew the feeling of true partnership, sacrifice, and security. I don’t believe there is that one final person who is the pinnacle of your search. I believe in moments. In journeys. In evolution. I’m not happy and secure in my relationship because my future husband is the ONE.  I’m happy because I’m happy. I didn’t get here by myself but there’s no way I would hang the ribbon on just one person, place or thing. I had a long path of exploration, digging up of demons, processing of trauma, healing, being hurt again and healing again. I needed to lose.

And I’ll lose again. But the point of marriage/picking a person to be with for the rest of your journey is just that. Anything I go through I want to go through with him. I know I CAN go through with him. From now on, he’s the guy. It’s not about safety. It’s about respect. The idea of me being monogamous and loyal to one human for the rest of my days isn’t about dedication to a promise, it’s not about being a stronger person than I used to be, it’s about admiration for his journey and wanting to merge ours into the most epic road trip of all time.

The secret to our success will be shedding the binary of a marriage between a man and a woman. I’m not from Venus, he’s not from Mars. Relationships are so fucking gendered. And why? Gender is a construct, the binary is a lie and who is truly heteronormative? And a relationship like this isn’t necessarily based and rooted in our sexuality. That, like gender is truly fluid. Instead, when we take our vows in front of family and friends, the only promise I will make is to ride the melt. I’m here, (and most assuredly queer) and I’m not going anywhere anymore. I don’t have an out. This is the moment. This is the guy.  And I’m not so much leaving my past behind me or abandoning my study of the human heart and it’s capacity to love and be loved, I’m merely narrowing my test field. I want to know more of his heart, to push it to its limits, to bask in its warmth and glow. I want to continue to bless this heart that blesses me. To honour this body that stands next to me. To listen to this soul that endeavours so hard to HEAR me.

In my life, I’ve used the term wild and free.  I don’t so much feel wild anymore but I do feel freer than I have in my entire life. Freedom can be found in a moment, in a connection, in knowledge, in pain. Wildness is for my younger self. Wild things may run fast, but free things stand still and listen.

This, for me, is love.