In losing companionate love, it seems the understanding sharpens…
(I might add or take away)
There are no crashing waves, as when one is falling into love. Instead, there are deep oceans trenches of life-love.
This is a creative force ~ life enhancing, forged in those salty depths. There is a creativity of each other, and in the union. We share, we glow, bioluminescence under pressure and at depth.
Sharing of one’s life, daily, is a work of transcendence above selfishness and self centredness. Each one of us must remain in tact, so there is no completion of ourselves. But there is a sum greater than ourselves.
Potentialities of the individual shine around the other, when both would otherwise remain unseen. Kindness and empathy towards each other may spill over to community, in the spirit of agape.
There are daily deeds, daily communions, of sorrow and of joy. There are exothermic moments, when one absorbs the heat of the other, where one absorbs the anger of the other. There is reciprocity, especially in laughter.
Love gives life meaning, but not a particular meaning ~ rich hydrothermal vents of ingenuity and succour.
There is porosity. And there is adhesion. Touch is essential, daily. More than daily.
Companionate love finds connection in incremental expansions, like cryptic hyphae exchanging signals in deep ocean sediments.
Like the prevailing current, we each are the fetch of one another’s skin. There still can be passion. Reunions.
We share an outward glance from internal seeing.
There will be the quietest moments. Stillness. There is tenderness.
And then there is grief. For one or the other.
There are times when love recedes, an ebb, when hurt and insult is felt in ways that one’s own wellbeing is harmed. Sometimes, the deepest love leaves us.
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