I’ve been thinking about the women I know in my life. There are some who seem to know exactly what they want and others who are at the edge of a cliff somewhere, contemplating their next move – fearful of the gaping abyss which they call ‘my life’. I made a point of seeing some of these women. So I did. I sat with them and listened intently to their stories, with the best part of my heart as company. That’s when it dawned on me how truly incredible these women are, yet how little they know that about themselves.
They are incredible in the way they endure difficulties. The way they approach impossible situations and dare to confront them. There is never flight, only fight. And the fighting they do is almost always in the name of love. They wait faithfully for the unknown, and they wait not knowing if the end of the ‘unknown’ is worth waiting for – yet they wait patiently and make hope their ally. These patient women remind me of the main character Florentino in Gabriel Márquez’s ‘Love in the Time of Cholera’. He waits and waits for Fermina (the love of his life) and endures numerous rejections, and survives the bitterness of distance and heartache. Not once does he lose hope, because what’s in his heart is love and love is never without hope. Most women are like the loyal Florentino. When love is in their hearts, anything is possible. If you see a woman forsaking that ‘anything’ – then know that love was never in her heart, or that love for whatever reason had transformed into something not resembling love.
A woman gives with her heart when she loves – and she has so much of it to give that her deep well of love never dries up. She is strong enough to hold back when pride is threatened, but lets go willingly when love is returned. She tries very hard when something means something to her, and she never tries less even when ‘less’ is safer. There is insanity in the way she loves. Most of the tears she sheds are tears related to love. She cries when she loves with passion and cannot contain its eruptive force; and she cries when love is questioned and cannot control its downfall. Crying is the most beautiful expression of her soul. Her love’s purity is revealed when she cries.
Think about some of the women you know. The hopelessly in love. The ones who love with all their being even when love isn’t reciprocated or when love is there but has reached a dead-end. Don’t judge them. I for one admittedly regret the way my less-knowing younger self judged these women. I thought they were weak and that their paralysis was their doing. And I used to think it with a deep and serious disappointment in womanhood (as if I was immune to the frivolity of a woman in love – which I certainly wasn’t). I thought they were weak because I equated strength with pride and being realistic (the anti-dweller type: tomorrow is another day), and anything outside of that realm I considered weakness. How wrong I was to judge. How insensitive of me. And how much I’ve learnt since then.
So did Fermina.
At the end, Fermina recognises the rarity of Florentino’s strong feelings towards her. She acknowledges his wisdom, and appreciates his patience and persevering hope. So much so that their love is finally able to blossom freely during their old age. Love happens because Fermina finds love in her heart again and frees it. She allows love to guide her.
A woman might be at the edge of a cliff somewhere, contemplating her next move and dreading what lies ahead- but if love is in her heart, love will guide her. She will survive. She will figure it out. And her incredibleness will shine through.
I know you all have love in your hearts. Love will guide you. You will survive. You will figure it out. And your incredibleness will shine through.