to me, this is love

To Me, This is Love 
- words by euni

6.30.20

I often find myself challenged by love because ultimately, my life is so filled with it everywhere I look. One would think that something seen so abundantly wouldn’t confuse the heart or mind. But it’s been revealed to me that love is layered, and often labeled wrong. Misunderstood, unseen by the average eyes. 

We put love that all too often is actually lust in disguise on a pedestal built with shaky hands and cloudy eyes. We idolize the love that comes from the promises that may not be strong enough to be kept. And we crumble at the love that is taken, when we give ourselves nakedly to one we’ve just met. 

Yes, of course I want my body to be touched by the hands of a lover. 

But this body will not receive caresses at the sacrifice of being touched half-heartedly. 

It won’t settle for any less than being held fully in ways that make it feel most alive, 

most worshipped subtly, loved openly. 

This body is one that has taken the time to listen to the truth of love that is mysterious. The honesty of the love that is filled with melancholy. 

This body is able to see it in the plants that grow and surround the path I take to and from my front door. To read it in the texts and see it in the eyes that meet mine after days have passed since we were last together.

To me, this is love. 

It’s in the hearing that happens when you think no one is really listening. 

The seeing when you think no one is looking.

Sure, I want the company of a body to curl up into when the nights are cold or to let my toes touch when it’s too warm to be close. But not at the sacrifice of shifting my nighttime routines in a way that causes me to abandon the love I've created with myself. 

I like to sleep in the middle of the bed with a pile of blankets on top of me so that I feel heavy, weighted, closer to the earth. I like to breathe deeply and slowly to wind down, feeling into all the parts of my body, asking which ones have I overlooked that day. Touching my own skin, massaging my own muscles to alleviate my own pain. Say thank you. I’m sorry. I love you. I see you. I forgive you. I love you.

I like to stare out the tiny window that sits high above my bed and listen to the noises of nature that sneak in from an open window across the room. The chirping of the nightbirds. The songs of the crickets. The dancing of the leaves in the trees as the wind passes through. To move my legs within the sheets and let the softness of the fabric caress my skin. To watch the morning light flicker and create patterns on the walls opposite of my bed. And imagine stories of what might be happening outside, as the world wakes up, unbothered and in it’s own, natural time.

I like to fill the beginning, middle, and end of my days with deep breaths that move from my belly to my chest. To be, fully, most presently with my own self in the ways that my body and brain ask for. To me, this is the most loving. To me this is love that you can only uncover when you don’t fill your time and days with a lover who isn’t doing the same. 

This may seem selfish to another - which is why I hesitate to share my time. But this is what my love looks like, the love that no one else can give. A love I’m certain I am not ready for anyone else to mindlessly take. This love takes time. Seeing, listening. Mirroring.  A development of trust. 

Obviously, I want the gift of sharing my time, body, and mind in romance. 

But not at the sacrifice of self-centered lust.

I will stay here in the indulgence of the unfolding of time. Where I will tip-toe into new beginnings and delicately consider all the options of something I’ve never seen.

I will contemplate and analyze things that are known. 

Close my eyes and smell things that I’ve never felt. 

Loose track of everything else in the world and engulf into a moment. 

Turn off the noise of the world outside. 

Taste the sweetness of every bit of the good and the bad of life that is put upon my plate. 

Digest all the variations, layers, labels, gifts that have removed the disguise of short-term lust. 

To me, this is love. 

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euni is a multi-disciplinary artist, facilitator, practitioner, and educator of intimacy, kink + healing located in San Diego, CA. learn more at selfstudylab.com / substack.sensoryplayspace.com