Join the Dance

Did you know that we’re made of stardust? Yes, in fact, we are. As the stars dance their waltzes, their mazurkas, their tangos, their foxtrots, their ballets, their boogies, their jigs, their consequential love falls to the earth as stardust, littering the ground, the trees, the waters, the animals, the bricks, and the silks with its fragrance, its magic, its ecstasy, its rhythm. Love between two people may seem to be random, chance, coincidental, arbitrary, sometimes a childhood romances, sometimes unrequited, sometimes on the train or in the park, sometimes via a dropped pencil, sometimes across the room, sometimes in dreams, it is actually very structured, and quite to be expected, for lovers come from the same stardust, the same dance.

You may ask, what about lovers years apart, or miles apart? Well, then I would tell you that stars are not bound by time or space, for they shine constantly on all peoples at all times, so it is absurd to think that that could be an issue. However, that is also why some people never find love because their mate is trapped in another era, another world even. A girl may read a history book and discover her lover in a sixteenth century explorer, and wish for a dead man, but he may only ever see her in his dreams, maybe. Or, a man falls for a girl who seems to be fictional, but has really only been born in another world, and the written page is the only portal to her.

Or, did you hear of the old man who met his love just before he died, and she was just coming into the world, but he knew her when he saw her although their moment together was only brief? She was miserable for the rest of her life. Some may call him a pedophile, but it was not an erotic, sexual, lustful, love, but simply love in its purest form.

Sometimes, although thankfully not too often, the dust becomes two close relatives. Now, should they fight the laws of their society in order that they might be together, to satisfy their stars? Is it worth it? Or should they rebel against their nature and find another to love?

Other times stardust does not scatter, but remains as one, united entity. You know these people. Any love they have is only an accessory, because they already have themselves to love, they don’t need anyone to love them, and they cannot possibly love anyone else.

And so, ladies and gentlemen, that is why we must earnestly, desperately, seriously, passionately, seek out and find our love, for he, or she, completes us, and together you and he, or she, will manifest in the glory of that love which descended from the heavens, for each individual is only have a romance, and we must need a partner before we can go to the ball and join the dance.



They say write what you know. So here’s a fictionalized version of something that happened to me today.

I’ve been on the phone with Sam for about a minute and I’m already whining about making it through the last three weeks of my trip.

“I just wanna be able to eat food.” I cry once I’ve finished my monologue about not having freedom in my host family’s kitchen. Sam laughs the way he does when I’ve said something cute.

“I’m sorry for laughing, you’re just so cute.” I smile at the boy who can’t see my face.

“It’s okay, I think your crying is cute too.” I remind him.

“You’re right. Now, I want you to stand up.” Sam says. I give him an okay, and slowly get out of my swivel chair.

“Alright, I’m standing.”

“Now turn around.” I’m not sure why he’s telling me to turn around, but I do it anyway. “Now tell me what you see.” I sigh, and do as he says.

“I see a pile of messy stuff on the floor, my closet, the clothes all over my hanger thing, all the garbage I collected this morning, my handbags on the hooks, the screen door, and my open sliding door.” I’m really confused as to why he asked me to list everything. Maybe he’d just wanted me to say “the screen door” or something because that was the first thing I saw.

“Right, I asked you that because I knew you’d list things because I know you.” Sam says, and I smile and my heart sings. After dating this boy for ten months, sometimes I wonder just how much he loves me. I don’t see his face most of the time, and because of the time difference when I do talk to him it’s not much. But with sentences like that one, I’m reassured all over again just how much he really does care for me and pay attention to me. It breaks my heart just how wonderful he is. “Everything you just listed is eight and a half months of stuff. Think about how far you’ve come and how much you’ve done in that eight and a half months. Compared to that, how much do you have left?”

“A skip and a jump.”

“Just a tiny bit. It’s like running a marathon, and you get tired towards the end. You know what you have to do for the last stretch?”

“Be patient?” I ask.

“Sprint.” Sam answers. “Sprint, because even though you’re tired, you just need to push through. Don’t let yourself be sad, you just have to sprint to the end. You are so strong, I know you can do it.”

Thank you, lover boy. You may not know this about me yet, but I’m pretty good at sprinting. Or maybe you do know that, and that is why you are telling me to sprint. The things you say amaze me sometimes. Maybe that’s why I love you.