Meditation: On Falling in Love

The notion of falling in love is one of which we are all aware, if not one in which we are all experienced. Rarely, however, do we stop to consider the phrasing itself and the hidden messages therein.

To be in love suggests that love is a place. Or a vessel. Or a state. It suggests that love is something in and of itself, invisible to the human eye, but that, by intimate communion, we might hope to access and find rest within its inner sanctum.

There are many places that look and feel like love. Many of us have been in them. Sometimes we confuse proximity, familiarity, lust or even shared trauma for love. Only to, years later, look around the place as if seeing it anew and find we instead inhabit some life-size replica.

Sometimes we are more in love with the idea of being in love … and all the magnificent rainbows and unicorns that will surely ensue. A fairytale land of sunshine and positivity.

That is why the concept of falling is so interesting to me. Never is a fall considered positive. Think: Fall from grace. Fall off the wagon. Nan’s had a fall.

Falling is dangerous. Safety is not guaranteed in love. A fact that is known all too well by those that have fallen out of love. That second falling is twice as painful.

Another consideration in the phrasing: To fall is to descend.

Maybe there’s something in that? A depth that we need to reach. A dark place. A core.

In actual fact, “falling in love” is an unfinished phrase. It requires a “with”. We don’t go down alone. Our descent into the ethereal realm is accompanied. The companion may not even be aware - in the case of unrequited love - but the idea of them is entwined with us as we fall. The times in which two people fall together are beautiful and have been celebrated in stories since the birth of civilization. Two lovers locked in an embrace and plummeting into the unknown.

The fall could (perhaps should) last forever.

And so there is a fear that comes with falling. A fear of the unknown. A fear of being known. As we fall deeper, these hidden fears rise to the top and might escape us before we are able to grab hold of them and hide them from the ones we love.

This is necessary for the bond. It is the true test of relationship. In relationship, the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. People find themselves reborn through love but no birthing experience is ever painless.

“People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life.

A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.”

~ Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray Love

I agree in part with the (inestimably quoted) passage above from the excellent Elizabeth Gilbert.

Good relationships involve each holding a mirror for the other. One finds oneself in the reflection their partner holds. However, great relationships exist when each holds, instead, a two-way mirror. The truest form of love is the ability to still hold up the glass and the person, throughout the brutality and beauty of them seeing themselves.

To fall is to see and be seen.

In an age where identity is often carefully curated, the vulnerability and exposure inherent in falling in love can be too overwhelming.

Many years ago my brothers gifted me a bungee jump. I can still recall the moment of curling my toes over the ledge and looking down 160ft below. As the countdown began, I remember telling myself that I must jump the split second after they said “one” or I knew that I wouldn’t leap off and allow myself to fall.

The experience was one of the most thrilling and liberating of my life.

I hope that when the opportunity arises you will leap and allow yourself to fall.