Artemis is the mysterious goddess of the hunt. She doesn’t even try to be nice. She demands her place in the world, and she refuses to ever be married. Marriage is too constricting for her. She protects children, her own right to her body, and also the animal kingdom. Yet, she is known to kill when it suits her. Artemis scares me. She is so unpredictable. I suppose, one could say she personifies real love.
I revere her capacity for independence, but come on! No commitment? I’d rather eternally push a boulder up a hill than not want intimate attachment! I am not superior to love. I long for it.
Listen, I was raised for twelve years in a house of women only. I have never been a stranger to earning my own keep, nor having the drive to promote my own career. Nobody washes my dishes but me. I was raised on Instant Breakfast and sensible shoes. I know how to do the whole illusion of I DON’T NEED A MAN. Still, I always found it too black and white, too inhuman, and honestly, a lot of silly bravado. If I were a lesbian, I would feel no differently about wanting a woman. I certainly don’t intend to marry again. I just want my own God-given significant other to grow old with me, thank you very much!
Choosing to never stop the world and melt with a man just makes me sad. I may never be Artemis. But wow! She looks amazing in that super sexy get-up with a bow and arrow. I bet she gets a thrill seeing her own reflection in the local pond. She is known for hanging out with wolves and deer. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be that?
Maybe Artemis sees that the civil union of marriage denies that real love is fluid. It changes and it morphs. It is viable and it is generous. And sometimes real love, even with enduring trust, means letting people grow up and straight out of one’s life. Letting go can be the bravest act of love. I guess if I cannot find the man I want, at least I can love myself, my life and the people in it. I don’t have to attach myself to just anyone. Plus, my true love may be plowing through some of his own stuff before he can get to me. Right?
I do not regret dating online. It was not a waste of time. Epic levels of self-love came from it, clarity about what I am seeking, what I need, and who I am. Suffering in the Land of Singledom is a garden of spiritual lessons, and I am stronger for it. I am proud of the courage it took to go online, willing to risk heartbreak and the baffling, unsettled moments. I am grateful to the men who jumped in and taught me well.
Spiritual matters require a deeper look at the gains.
After six months of online dating, I admit it never felt natural to me. It often made me feel neurotic, robotic, hypnotic. I might do better with someone who earns my trust and friendship naturally, for a good long while before I let them in romantically. Love is horrible and chaotic and the best part of being alive. I am madly in love with love!
For now, I’ll be turning my will over to the gods. I intend to accept my fate. I can still laugh and commune with others, and simply be among the living. I can be lovely and lovable. But I do believe he is out there. I have a knowing of it. I just do.
Maybe I am more like Artemis than I realized, an unmarried, defiant goddess of the hunt.