Count no one lucky until you know how they died.
Chinese wisdom notwithstanding, I’ve always counted myself lucky in love. Very lucky.
Lately, my luck has been called into question.
Anke fell in love with a friend of ours and, for a while, we considered sailing forward as a crew of three. Extending WAYWARD to accommodate would have been the least of the changes to our lives, however, and our differing styles were hard to resolve. In the end, Anke and I are sailing forward as two, and our friend will remain a friend.
As you might imagine, a turn like this shakes the very foundations. While nothing changed in Anke’s feelings for me, everything changed. Came into question. Plans altered radically. For that time hours, days and nights of our seamless life divided and fell away. Emotions ran high.
I passionately believe that we’re not in control of love. It comes to us - or doesn’t - on its own terms. Can’t be forced. Can’t be denied. We can cultivate it or we can discourage it, and that’s about all.
I passionately believe that, if you truly love someone, it’s for who they are. Not who or how you might wish them to be. Not for what they can be for you. But for themselves… for the fire which they - as they are - alight within you. We sail with them as best we can, out of love, whatever the course.
Love is a gift, and I passionately believe that a gift has no strings. One should never abide abuse, but there is a world of challenge where harm nor pain was ever intended. If there are strings, the impulse is to pull or cut them… and that seems to me neither gift nor love.
So, with love all around, we made it through as a couple. I believe we would have made it through as three, had that been our path. Come hell or high water.
Lucky in love.