The Lovers: Thoughts stepping into 2022

Reflections on last year and movement into this year

This year is the year of Lovers, of stepping into that archetype in tarot. I have read tarot for a while, and have an active tarot practice for myself, but am still very much a novice. Am still very much learning how to be present with the cards, with my intuition, and with the messages that they are trying to show me.

When I realized that this was a year corresponding to the Lovers archetype, I immediately felt a lot of resistance in my body. As someone who is single, and someone who currently has COVID (lol—will it ever end?? When can I reunite with the world??), and someone—who like all of us—is going through Venus Retrograde, I have been spending a lot of time by myself, a lot of time reflecting on my relationships. A lot of time rereading bell hooks, who I feel so incredibly blessed to have lived at the same time as, to read and re-read her work, and to have it have been such a grounding presence for me in what it means to love every since I first read it, over twelve years ago. Thank you for changing my life, bell. Thank you for showing me what is possible in our being, in our hearts, when we come at everything from a foundation of love. Thank you for helping me to see so much of this, and to know that in this love, in this queering, we make visions for what seems impossible, possible.

But the bristling, the resistance to the Lovers archetype, came from fear. Last year was a year of heartbreak for me. A year of unmasking illusions, a year of letting go. It was, as my friend Jonathan Dent told me in a reading he gave me (which was incredible and I would highly recommend for people)—it was a year of the sacred goodbye. The universe was asking me to shed that which I had outgrown, that which was not reciprocal, that which required my silence, that which had also developed unhealthy cycles from both myself and others. It was asking me to take some time to reassess some of my relationships as they stood, to see where I could love better, and be honest about where I wasn’t being loved enough.  It was hard work. A lot of tears. A lot of moments where my heart felt so tattered and unlovable. A lot of moments where I was tempted to betray myself so I wouldn’t be alone. And a lot of moments where I felt I couldn’t do anything but isolate, but keep myself tucked away and by myself, but be quiet.  

It was honestly so much loss that it felt devastating. So much loss that I didn’t know how to be.

I have a hard time letting go of things. I am notoriously bad at it. I’ve spent a lot of my life in various states of under-nourishment, and therefore, have clung onto unhealthy love, unhealthy relationships, neglect and unhealthy definitions of self as a way of being in relationship, as a way of keeping connection, keeping family, keeping love. As an orphan, as a child of neglect, as a person who has been abused often by both people and systems, I’m really working to understand that abuse is not love, that I’m worthy of more than just the bare minimum. I’m so grateful for the love that I do have in my life, my beautiful friendships, my beautiful communities that I get to be part of. I’m grateful for the romantic and sexual relationships that I have had that taught me I was worthy, that gave me reference points for safety in love. I feel grateful to have known love so deep, to have access and possibilities to ways of being that there is no mainstream language for, let alone depictions of. I feel grateful for love in fugitivity, for love in the open, and to listen to myself and others as we co-create love together.

When I look past my fear, my own hurt, I know what’s there. I love loving. I love love. I was sitting with a friend last year in my apartment and she said, “I think I want to read something about love.” We both paused, thinking about love. Then she said, “Actually, I think I just want to read a book you write about love.” I do want to write a book about love. I think I have a lot to say. And I also pray, Inshallah, that I have a lot more love to experience. A lot more love to receive and give. I hope that I have the opportunity to keep expanding in my ideas of love. And to keep sharing them.

When I look at it now, I know that so much of my isolation and my quietness last year came from fear. I started to get afraid that I couldn’t engage in the world, and perhaps that the world didn’t want me. It’s a thing we navigate with all relationships—how to be in connection but still maintain yourself? How to give healthily, where you don’t feel like all your doing is giving? How to love and to not hurt? How to love and not be hurt?

We can’t. We’re human. We hurt each other. And ourselves. Hurts are a natural part of relationships. They happen. They break you. And you talk through it. And sometimes you heal together. And sometimes you heal separately.  

I’m trying to remember that just because there have been many people who have broken my heart, the world is not full of heartbreak. The world contains all of us. All of our hearts, that are sometimes annoying, sometimes mean, sometimes cruel. But also all of our hearts, that are sometimes kind, sometimes joyous, sometimes careful. And the world contains all our hearts that sometimes, miraculously, line up and are ready to receive, to be present with each other, to be vulnerable, at the right moment.

In connection, we break. In connection, we heal. And we belong, deeply, to both. I am as much an equal part in the heartbreak of my life as I am in the healing. In relationships, I belong to the sad moments as well as to the joyous ones. They exist there, together, always. And when I am able to look at that, at that in its truest sense, I get a holistic picture of what love is. Not the bullshit love in whack movies that sells us fantasy. But real love. Love based in trying to see another fully. In making space for them and myself to be full, whole, complete. And to love from there. And to know, the only world I want to be in, is a world where I an others can love like that.

I’m still learning my sensitivities as gifts. I’m still learning how to be with them, how to honor them, how to protect them, how to nourish them. I’m still learning how to be sensitive and exist in a world that doesn’t often value sensitivity. I’m learning how to not have boundaries be walls, how to lead with a discernment that is light-filled, how to let people in.   

I’m really hoping to share my love this year. I’m hoping to heal the tears in my heart from past heartbreaks: from friends, from lovers, from projects, from community, from collaborations, from family. I’m hoping to cherish the joys from past heartbreaks as well. To be present with both the healing and the heartbreak. To be abundant with my love for myself and others. In all areas of my life. But here, in this Lovers year, here I am calling in love that stays, love that heals, love that returns, love that lifts.

Ameen <3  

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