Normally I hate crowd participation. But I was only required to cheer or clap, showing my response to some questions. Who has been in love? Who wants to be in love? Who thinks being in love would make them happier? The first two questions got a positive roar from the audience. Question number three got a very lack lustre awkward rumble. The jury was out. Then Clementine Ford asked, who amongst the crowd assumed each question was about romantic love? And with that a penny dropped.
It's funny how conditioned we are to thinking the pinicle of human existance is finding 'the one'. Literature, poetry, songs and movies speak to us of great love. Of yearning, seeking and celebrating finding our true love. But what if you were already surrounded by deep unconditional love from your friends or family? Is this a lesser kind of love?
I recently attended Clementine Ford's Love Sermon. Much like the topics covered in her book 'How we love' she spoke of her childhood. Of her Mother dying in her 50s when Clem was just 26. Of the complex love she has for her son. And also the love of your friends.
There were two moments in particular that had me sitting in the theatre with tears gently rolling down my cheeks. In unpacking the idea of love, Clem suggests that what we essentially want is for someone to understand us, to know us, to witness our life. And this rings true of our friends. I have had three significant romantic relationships in my life, yet I have had deep friendships which have helped me navigate them all. People who have seen me evolve over decades. Watched me change and grow as a person. Held my hand, hugged me, cheered me on and loved me. Been sage sounding boards through troubled times and given me thought provoking advice. I have learned so much from them and I feel so privileged to have such wonderful inspiring friends.
As I don't believe in heaven or god, the idea of a witness resonated with me. After death, we live on in the memory of people we love. People who hold us in their hearts. Who see us in the stars and constellations or flecks of dust floating in sunshine. We were known and we mattered.
Clem also spoke of looking back at your younger self. How harshly we judged who we were. How we hated our bodies, felt stupid, not enough, not right. The last type of love spoken of was self love. Not in a self-care, wellness, bath-taking kind of way. Making peace which our past. Understanding that all the versions of you, as imperfect as they were, are all stepping stones to the person you are today and the person you'll be in the future. We should be kinder and love our younger selves, regardless of flaws, as they were all trying their best to figure life out. Clem highlighted all the random moments and decicions which have been made to make us...us. Our very existance is a miracle. In the scheme of the universe, there's only one me. So perhaps I should be kinder to her.
Clem suggested we ask our partners what they know of us. Not what they like about us, but what they know of us. I've been thinking about this over the past few days. I feel lucky that I have a handful of people who do know me. People who understand me, and are my witnesses. Love which goes beyond attraction. Beyond shared interests. Love which sees who I truly am. Known.
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