Love me in between

by Katie Johnson (United States of America)

I didn't expect to find Belize

My Buddhist monk says the mind of love is grounded and at ease in the moment, radically at peace. It is “profoundly chilled out.” He told a story of when he used to befriend retired men. The monk enjoyed hearing their life stories and being “their little monk friend.” He spoke of one gentleman who used to be a psychiatrist. Their conversations meant so much to him that one day the psychiatrist said to the monk, “People have either loved me too much or too little. You’re the first person who’s loved me in between.” In other words, why can’t we find the one who loves us just right? Months later I went for a jungle hike in Belize. My travel mates and I were led by a local guide who called back to birds and shared Mayan lore. He told us of Xtabay, a long-black-haired forest demon of incomparable beauty who lures men with sex appeal, then turns into a snake, and devours them. The guide said when you first encounter beautiful Xtabay and have this kind of love (or more aptly called attachment?), you see that person everywhere. “You see them in your coffee,” he said. I thought that was a perfectly desperate, romantic description of the all-consuming nature of love. And yet, shouldn’t we want a love that is a little less dramatic? A little… healthier, but still romantic? Isn’t there something in between? I spent the three-hour hike trying to take in the jungle. But because there were so many layers, so many sensations, I found it easier to focus on one sense or one level of the forest at a time. I listened to the guide identify birds and furiously scribbled names in my tiny, humidity-soaked notebook. Then I stayed at eye level to the vines cascading into pink, hot lips flowers springing from the swath of green. My eyes wandered to the spongy mushrooms cantilevering out of Caribbean pine. I looked down to the forest floor and focused on the path. A line of leafcutter ants trotted along bringing sawed off bits of green to their home. An arduous trek, I was sure. Did they know how hard they were working? A wolf spider skittered along. When our guide saw a flash of a monkey in the trees I craned my head, but he was already gone. Bromeliads poked out of the tree trunks. The guide spotted a Red-capped Manakin and a Black-headed Trogon, then whistled back with pursed lips and a twinkle in his eyes. Could I hear? Yes. He pointed to a smooshed patch of grass on the forest floor where a jaguar might have sat to rest, and I looked down again. Did I see the scratched dirt and paw print nearby? I did. Did I smell the high stink of the tapir that had also run ahead of us? I did. I heard it and saw it and smelled it as sweat rolled down my face. And in the midst of this sensory overload I spotted a string of heart-shaped leaves crawling up a tree and tumbling down in front of our faces. So I started to look for only those heart leaves. They were everywhere. Above and below, crawling and tumbling. This is the world we live in. It really is a jungle out there. But in between the jungle of life and the life of the jungle there is love. That’s where I want you to love me. Love me less than a tireless ant, but more than a swinging monkey. Love me atop the mushrooms, beneath the palms. Love me as the trogon calls and the jaguar lures us on. Love me in the midst of the high stink and relentless sweat, the playful hot lips and hopeful light through the trees. Love me as one tiny part of a balanced, complex ecosystem. Love me beyond infatuation, ahead of apathy. After we’ve won each other but before we choose to find anew. Love me profoundly chilled out. Love me like heart leaves lightly wrapped around your trunk. Love me right here. Love me in between.