Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.
Background
MY ANGEL OF GOD begins with narrating how two lost souls share their grief due to the untimely deaths of their beloved parents. In the cauldron of their hot tears, a powerful bond is forged.
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Note to my dear reader: This chapter explores how the mutual interplay between me and my Angel grows through our letter writing. If you have not met me and my Beloved in Ch2 or Ch3, it will be difficult to understand how our mutual grief forged a tenuous bond that united us in a common purpose. The letters exchanged here consolidate this common purpose and slowly set ablase a burning love that makes us confident that we will heal each other in yet more dramatic ways in the future. You, the reader, get to watch this unfold by reading the private correspondance of two would-be romantic lovers. I would estimate that 15-20 minutes would be required to read and absorb this autobiographical narrative.
Just as I was beginning to shake off the coldness of death, the semester ended and I was scheduled to go off to Switzerland to do some collaborative research for five weeks in Neuchâtel.
As time draws near to when you must depart,
All I desire is to give you my heart,
To wrap my arms around and to pull you near
And whisper how much I love you into your ear.
These are the delightful words of the poem that my Angel gave me to open at ten thousand feet. I read them over and over on the flight as the roar of the 747 propelled me away from my Angel across the cold Atlantic. It was incredible to me that the eight times that we had met had born such great trust and such complete surrender. The weeks to come, filled with long days of being apart, will surely alter who we are for each other. As the saying has it, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." Yet, being in uncharted waters, I had no idea just how far this fondness was to take root in my heart and bear unexpected fruit.
To have my Angel's first letter arrive in Neuchâtel was pure joy:
Walnut Hills, May 29th
Dearest Traveler,
The peace of the Lord be with you, my friend. I feel your distance from me already; however, I am able to turn inward to the breath of your spirit that you gave me and feel nourished. I have thought of you often since leaving you last night. Mostly I am in awe at how beautiful our relationship has been for me. . . .
You are the breath of heaven in my life. Your spirit unleashes all the heaviness of my being. You set my heart free. I really experienced this as we danced last week, but almost everything we do together is liberating and invigorating for me, for my soul.
I had a fantasy that I danced for you in a more seductive way, in a way that would allow me to express more of my feelings. What a wonderful, delightful way to let my secret feelings be exposed. The interpretative dance that you earlier shared with me enabled me to let go of all my inhibitions. But as I reflect upon it, I wouldn't do this with anyone else so fully. I am totally free when I am with you. For some reason, I can really be what God created me to be, most fully and most easily, when I am with you.
Oh, let it be my friend! Let it be, oh Windy One. Blow your gentle breath into the deep canyons of my heart. Revitalize me to the core. I want it all. Stir up all that has trampled down and been forgotten. Lift up all that has been bent over from pain and sorrow!
I say, "Yes," to you, dear Wind, just as I say, "Yes," to God. "I want to live the real-life" [John Cougar Mellencamp]. I also want to be with you, to know the deep valleys of your life. I want to be the swift comet that illumines your atmosphere with my red glow. I want to shower your canyon walls with sparks of my love. I want to set fire to your life. . . .
Oh, how good it is to be your friend. My joyful spirit praises God. I celebrate how precious you are to me. My prayers are with you . . . as well as my heart that wants to burst open in your gentle hands.
Your Angel
Yipes! What extraordinary grace is brewing here? I can hardly believe this. Indeed I am happy to be away if, being away allows such truths to spill out from the sweet lips of my Angel. She calls me the "breath of heaven" that sets her heart free. Meanwhile, she names herself as the "swift comet . . . that sets fire to my life."
Interpretative Dancing Together
As for the interpretative dancing that we did together, I told her to close her eyes and to let the Indian chant that I had recorded sink into her soul. I asked her to begin moving her body only when her spirit was ready to express something of the mystery within the oriental music. I did the same, but, at every moment, I took notice of my Angel, how she moved, and I endeavored to harmonize my movements with hers.
The second time we did this, we used the same music. This time, however, our movements were altogether wild, and we grasped and turned together in rhythm with the chant. Then, all of a sudden, my Angel stripped off her white blouse and bra—giving her dance a provocative and sexually heightened quality. I reveled in this turn of events. I reveled in her boldness. I reveled in the recognition that my Angel did not ask permission but, with unbounded freedom, went ahead and did whatever seemed right and good. In effect, my Angel was able to take anything I proposed and bringing it to new heights of expressing joy and peace and love.
We never discussed our dancing. We just let it be what it would be. Now, in her first letter, I hear her identifying the impact of these spontaneous movements for the first time: "The interpretative dance that you have shared with me has allowed me to let go of all my inhibitions. But as I reflect upon it, I wouldn't do this with anyone else so fully. I am totally free when I am with you." Wow! I memorize her words in an attempt to grasp their inner strength and meaning.
Josh Groban sings a love song, "You're Still You." I'm listening to it now. The words he uses for his beloved suddenly take on new meaning for me. His operatic, baritone voice expresses the sentiments that I am feeling for my Angel. This is especially true when he sings "I believe in you" and "You do no wrong!" I reread your first letter and find that this is exactly the right song that I now sing out loud to my absent Angel.
I look up to
Everything you are.
In my eyes, you do no wrong
And I believe in you
Although you never asked me to.
I will remember you
And what life put you through
And in this cruel and lonely world
I've found one [true] love.
When I get to the point where my Angel writes, "I had a fantasy that I danced for you in a more seductive way," this set my imagination on fire. I welcome that day! I know with certainty that it is coming soon. Yowzer! So, in anticipation of that special day, I begin to dance spontaneously with you and call out again and again, "You do no wrong!" "You do no wrong!"
Dancing to the Vision of Chapman
Her second letter arrives the next day. It was even more magnificent:
Walnut Hills, May 30th
Dearest Friend,
When I close my eyes, I think of you, you, you. I see the deep dark brown of your eyes, the outline of your lips, your red cheeks, and luscious hair! What a beautiful man you are!
I can see you dance slowly, as the Spirit of Wind within you gently blows and praises God. I can also see the pain within your chest, within your heart, that is the result of a little boy who had to do it all by himself, deprived of a mother's tender love. I see a man who has seen the face of God, who seeks justice, a man who heals, touches pain boldly, and blows the Spirit of Life within him out to others. My friend, precious in God's eyes and in mine, you are the Wind of God.
I will be going to hear Tracy Chapman this Tuesday night. I had the fantasy of going with you. We were seated on an aisle. This gave us access to the space to dance out the spirit of many of her songs. We smiled at each other a lot. We both enjoyed singing with Tracy about liberating the imprisoned and about our desire for a just world. After the concert, we walked by the moonlit river filled with the hope and the vision that we had just breathed and danced together. We held hands and treasured greatly the time together. Our smiles and eyes and bodies celebrated our friendship. We wanted the night to last a long time, like forever. Then, after driving home, we went to bed in our own homes knowing how good God is and feeling how powerful love is in this world.
Your spirit continues to blow into my life and to refresh me. I praise God for this, and with all of creation, join in giving God glory for my Wind.
Love,
Your Angel
After a long day of research, I take this letter to bed with me and whisper her life-giving words in the quiet of the night. Only then do I notice that, for the second time, she closes her letter with "Love [coming from] Your Angel." "You do no wrong!"
My Love Comes to You Ferociously
Given the five-day trans-Atlantic mail gap, it was just about this point that my first letter arrived at my Angel's door in Walnut Hills. Without half-knowing it, we were expressing the same sentiments even though we were continents apart. For the sake of simplicity, I have altered the dates on my letters to indicate when my Angel received them rather than when they were sent. My first letter from Switzerland and my Angel's immediate response are as follows:
Ne uchâtel, May 31st
Dear Messenger of my Lord,
The train ride from Geneva to Neuchâtel [Switzerland] was electrifying. I delight in the familiar red tile roofs, stucco walls, vineyards, and the rocky beaches of Lake Geneva. I breathe this in and silently say to myself, "I belong here. This is home for me." Memories of my student days in Switzerland flood over me, and my body sighs in knowing recognition.
Oh, if only you were here! Then you could see all this with my eyes. . . . Exhausted by the eight-hour flight and train ride, I would hold you close to me all night. I'm laughing now for I suspect that I would find you wide-awake at 4 a.m. (since our internal clocks would be registering 10 a.m.). Then I would listen to all your fresh impressions and add to them some of my own. . . .
Now we sleep,
Wind
P.S.: Tell me that you will read my letters only when alone and save them for me in a place "for your eyes only."
Walnut Hills
June 2nd
Hello my Darling! Hello my good Friend!
Today I spent a lot of time at your home. I went with my husband to hear Rachel [your wife] preach at the 10:00 Mass. Afterwards, I took your free-spirited little daughter Natasha to Eden Park while Rachel preached at the 12:00 Mass.
We flew a kite. As the kite danced and soared through the wind, my thoughts turned to you. I became the kite, and you were the Wind lifting me up and turning me about. You blew so powerfully. Ah, how refreshing and how energizing it was to feel you moving me in the air—at times, slow and smooth, and at other times, gusty blasts! It is as though we were again dancing together, following each other's lead, fashioning a beautiful, creative rhythm. Let's do this again sometime soon.
After the kite flying and a brief period on the swings, I took Natasha home and met Margo, your longâ??time friend. Margo and I spent a long time getting to know each other. She's a beautiful woman with such a simple spirit. I deeply enjoyed getting to know her history.
I wanted to know what Margo knew about me since she mentioned that you had told her something about me. I wanted to know everything that she thought about you, but for some reason, I felt uncomfortably to ask her. Most likely, next time I will, or maybe you'll tell me in a letter.
Today, I felt like I was very near to you because [in your home] I saw your tea cup, your computer, your desk, etc. At the same time, there was a real emptiness in being at your house since, in the past, we had always been together there. I'm sure Rachel, Natasha, and Margo all felt the same way as they reminisced about the things you have done together.
Natasha [age=4] misses her daddy. She tells everyone, "My Dad left on a plane. He'll be back tomorrow!"
I want to know you through and through, my Friend. I want to hear your thoughts, feelings, desires, dreams. I feel like I didn't know enough about you today, and I desire to know you more, to come inside you, to be with you a while, and to touch your canyon walls (and have you sink in and absorb me as I do). Most of all, I want to wrap my arms around the void that rests within your chest and squeeze it much smaller by loving you.
I feel fortunate to be one of the women who loves you, and, although I'm sure the love given by each of us is different, I want to express mine to you this day!
Love,
Your Angel
Oh, I relish the details that my Angel gives me in her letter. I can so easily see the world through her eyes. The last paragraph is especially significant. And, notice how, now for the third time, she closes her letter with "Love [coming from] Your Angel." I love it!
Neuchâtel, June 5th
My dearest Angel,
Two beautiful letters arrived dated May 29th and June 1st. They lift up my spirit and bring it so, so, so close to you. How to respond? A reverend silence and this solemn accord:
Oh, come swift comet!
Race past all my defenses;
Plunge deep into the hidden
Canyons lost to all but you.
Hit down hard; rock my soul!
Shower the wall with your sparks;
Melt me down with your fire;
Burn away the banality of my life.
Shape and pound me as you will!
I trust you as I trust my God,
Alas, maybe even more. . . .
Tonight (in my deepest and truest imagination) I touch your cheek and kiss your eyes. You are with me, here, one-quarter of the way around the world. When I retire, you are at my side breathing in my ear and rubbing my chest. I sleep holding my Angel in perfect peace.
When I awake, you are running your hand through my hair and moving your delicious body so as to capture the warm sleep still radiating from mine. When I work long hours here, you are curled up with a book of your own by the window at my side. You stretch your toes under my thigh from time to time so as to capture my thoughts—warm and silent and waiting for the period when we will take a break and speak to each other face to face. . . .
You say that I have set your heart free and you thrill at being my friend. My chest tightens. Tears come to my eyes. No man should be so happy!
Mybreathentersyouforever,
Wind
Walnut Hills, June 8th
Dear Wind,
It's been a difficult few days (which I'll describe later perhaps) and my spirit has been formulating a poem for the last two days. This is a very special poem, probably my favorite:
Wind Dela
Breath expelled
and taken up spirit
shaken, awakened
love rumbles, stretches
and reaches long
all-embracing
red-bubbling
holy exchange . . .
dela!
The word "dela" comes from some African language. I'm not sure that I have spelled it right. During the Chapman concert (which we imaginatively attended together), "dela" was being used (as you remember) over and over to indicate "deep and total satisfaction." So my spirit yearns to share this "Wind Dela" with you.
I do so enjoy writing you. I received a letter from you today, and I enjoyed it immensely. I'd like to hear more about our sleeping together.
Wind, I long to hear all the stories, imaginings, thoughts, and emotions evoked by your surroundings. Please jot down what you feel and think so I can share this joy with you.
I spent some time alone with Natasha last night. What a beauty. I took her to my Grandmother's birthday party. On the way home, her right leg sang a song to her left leg. Then it was my turn to sing. Delightful!
I also spent a long evening with Rachel, which was also most enjoyable. She thought I was a 2, but I think I'm a 4 (tragic-romantic) on the Enneagram scale. We talked about you a lot, which was fun for me, as I was able to learn even more about who you are.
Sending a big hug to you Wind,
Your Angel
Angel, Spread Your Wings
Neuchâtel, June 9th
My dearest. . .
Angel, spread your wings!
I want to fly away with you.
Take me in your arms;
I know that you are dying to.
It's Sunday. There is a stillness in the house and on the streets. All the stores close here Saturday at noon and do not open again until Monday morning. Such beautiful sanity reigns in this part of the world where the Sabbath rest is alive and well.
Walk with me to the lake! Yes? Yes! Orange lichens grace centuries-old stone walls lining our path . . . grapevines sprout fresh tendrils reaching out to touch you . . . so, so, so good to hold your hand as we go . . . little stone houses with little gardens everywhere . . . hundreds of roses blooming . . . I pick one for you . . . the path descends . . . wood smoke from a cottage chimney scents the air . . . sweater weather . . . you sing, "You make my heart free," in the tunnel crossing under the highway . . . the words and the echo thrill me . . . holding you close to me, I spin you around 'til I am dizzy . . . through a muddy construction site . . . then we arrive next to the lake walking on the orange sandstones at the water's edge. . . .
 I hold you from behind as we watch the swallows diving near the surface of the water to catch their supper . . . three times I blow warm air into your blocked and aching ears . . . the Jural Mountains of France rise up on the far bank, three kilometers away . . . surfboard sailboats dart back and forth like large, gray moths dancing over the silvery lake. . . .
I hold you tighter to warm you against the chilly late afternoon wind . . . peace comes over me . . . the sun breaks through and warms your hair for a brief five minutes . . . holding you like this, I enjoy the smell of your hair . . . we say nothing, but I watch everything with your eyes. . . .
Oh, to see this beautiful world with your eyes . . . angels stop to watch us and kiss each other when they see how happy we are . . . a light rain begins to fall . . . so silently, so silently . . . little droplets cling to your hair like heavy dew . . . I kiss your hair dry . . . then, suddenly we are alone before the blazing hearth in the little cottage we passed when descending . . . night falls . . . amen!
Your Wind
Walnut Hills, June 12th
Dearest Wind,
Today I was thinking of you on the way home from work as I listened to John Cougar Mellencamp (the CD you gave me) in my car. How fun it was to do an interpretative dance with you to this music on the Tuesday before you left!
Oh, how deeply I am envisioning sharing more of our spirits together through dance! I think of you so often. It gives me life at every moment to remember my friend whom I love so much.
I miss you, my Wind, even though I have been very busy.
I carry you with me in my heart wherever I go and whatever I'm doing. I long to be close to you again and anticipate our joyful reunion even now!
I'm beginning to see less distinction between body and soul. Your words came back to me, "When two people joyously and courageously share their spirits, their bodies quickly become jealous and want to take part in that fine thing happening as their spirits intertwine."
My love is ferocious and I want to attack!
I see that I love all of you, body and soul. So, let's dance, sing, touch, laugh, cry, and celebrate our blessed love! My love goes with you
As your love stays with me,
Your loving Angel
Now, in her sixth letter, I again hear her savoring the impact of our impromptu dancing. Earlier, she wrote, "I am totally free when I am with you." Now my ferocious Angel extends this into a larger future: "Oh, how deeply I am envisioning sharing more of our spirits together through dance! I think of you so often. It gives me life at every moment to remember my friend whom I love so much." My Angel's words wash over me, and I reread her letters before I fall asleep each night. I continually give thanks to God for having sent me such a marvelous Angel.
Neuchâtel, June 13th
My dearest Angel,
Its' raining. I arrive home from the research center wet and exhausted. Listening to the soundtrack of The Mission that you gave me, I warm myself on your letter. Oh, dela!
Mon chèr Ange, I want to love all of you, even those parts of you that may be displeasing to yourself. When I smell your fear, the brokenness of your life, I will love YOU more! How can I melt all of you in the furnace of my passion, if you show me only your safe and sure and saintly side?
If I am your Wind,
I shall snap the kite string from your hands
And take you to dangerous places—
To heights that make you scream in fear.
If I am your Wind,
I shall blow the coals of my love red hot
And melt down every piece of your protective armor
Every shred of calcifying civility burnt away.
So, prepare your soul to soar and your body to burn!
And, alas, you'd like to hear more about our sleeping together. Get ready! Even this may be part of God's future for us.
Hewhowaitsforyou,
Wind
My Body Trembles
Walnut Hills, June 15th
Dearest Breath of Life,
My body trembles as I read your powerful letters. I quiver with passion and with life within. I feel so intensely, I hardly know where to begin. I yearn to be with you, to have your arms around me to comfort my aroused spirit and body. I feel like crying, for my soul aches to have you touch me, to hold my heart in your hands, to burst open again and again and again.
I want to be with you, to be one with you, and you with me . . . to sit with each other totally exposed and open, and to be loving toward each other . . . to love you and kiss you and to feel your body touching mine.
I want to see your beautiful eyes and comb through the soft hair around your ears. I want to touch every part of you, especially the black emptiness within your chest. I want to gently move it to the side and flood that place with love. I want to dive into that void and pour God's love (through me to you) therein until the blackness is transformed into a brilliant shining light that burns with fire.
Come close to me, yes, even closer, my Breath. I too want to come into you. I know you possess the secrets of God, for your breath gives me life and heals my yearning soul.
Breath of life, Wind of joy,
Lift me high, I long to soar
I want to fly away with you.
Fill me,
free me,
touch me,
heal me,
I am yours, and I am. . .
Wanting You So,
Your hungry Angel
Yowzer! Every fiber of my being wants to hold the quivering body of my ferocious Angel and to comfort her spirit! I revel in this!
I wrote to my Angel, "I shall blow the coals of my love red hot and meltdown every piece of your protective armor . . . so, prepare your soul to soar and your body to burn." And she picks up on this and speaks of how her spirit yearns and her body burns in anticipation of being more intimate with me. She even goes so far as to say, "Lift me high, I long to soar. I want to fly away with you. Fill me, free me, touch me, heal me, [for] I am yours, and I am . . . Wanting You So."
Wanting You So
My imagination is ablaze. Should I invite my ferocious Angel to fly to Switzerland and to spend a week alone with me? Could my Angel take a week off of work? Not likely. Nonetheless, my Wild Man is ablaze with fierce and reckless desire to be very close to her.
But how would she explain this to her husband? I already know that Tim is unsettled by the intensity of his wife's attraction to me. If I put myself in his shoes, it would be foolhardy for him to send his wife into my arms (unless, of course, he wanted to use this as an opportunity to bow out of his marriage). Ah, so much is unknown!
Yet, all things considered, we must not be careless when it comes to our spouses. When it comes to each other, however, our options are practically infinite—sharing stories, interpretative dancing, body massage, holding hands, wrestling, and maybe even a certain amount of sensuous kissing. . . . Are we capable of burning with love to enjoy and to heal each other while, at the same time, assuring our partners that they retain our complete sexual fidelity?
Then it occurs to me that my beloved Angel and I may have already crossed over the line and exceeded the bonds that our marriage vows allow. True, our kissing and touching have been minimal. But, given the last two letters, we would hardly be contented with this minimalism. My ferocious Angel has asked me to say more about "sleeping together." My Angel fantasizes about "flying away" to be alone with me. Meanwhile, my Wild Man relishes all of this and wants to push the boundaries even more.
So clearly we are playing with fire and risk getting burnt. Yet, when I am true to myself and true to my Angel and true to my God, there is nothing substantial in me that hesitates to deny the powerful healing that our love provides for each other. Thus, even if our relationship is dangerous (like passing through fire), our joint mission must be to teach each other how to handle fire safely and responsibly, both for ourselves and for our partners and for our God.
Neuchâtel, June 20th
Mon chèr et doux Ange!
Burning with desire, how can it be that you are so far away? So I bring you close to me where I need you. . . .
Sunday . . . our day of rest . . . we walk together to the local Catholic church with Christoph, an extraordinary sensitive young man whom I admire and whom I have asked to join us . . . the colored light passes through the cut glass and bathes the stone altar with a glow of divine presence . . . so peaceful to find you here by my side . . . the rite has a simple dignity throughout . . . hymns animated by a woman with a clear voice like Judy Collins. . . .
We sing "prepare a way for the Lord". . . that's when you press your hand over mine . . . oh, in some mysterious way, I sense you are clearing the rubble out of my life so that this Lord can bless us and renew us . . . my heart jumps (as did the child in Elizabeth's womb) in anticipation. . . .
After Mass, we sit on the grass chatting with Christoph on the power of symbols, of sex, and of medical care. Lunch is always chicken on Sundays . . . so, so, so good to feel your love as you discretely touch my thigh as we eat!
After a long after-dinner tea in my room, you sing to me as you cradle my head in your lap . . . I even doze off briefly and awake to find you peacefully looking into my soul . . . your hair frames your face so beautifully . . . and your sensuous and full lips wordless invite me to rise up and kiss you. . . .
Your fresh Wind
Oriah Mountain Dreamer
Am I a reckless madman or a faithful lover? At this moment, I cannot allow that there is a firm dividing line between one and the other. I am courageous enough to be both! In this choice, the words of Oriah Mountain Dreamer offer me both a challenge and a confirmation:
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love for your dream for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon . . .
I want to know if you have touched the center of your sorrow
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain.
I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own,
without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own,
if you can dance with wildness [Oh, YES!]
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic,
to remember the limitations of being human. ~~
While rereading this, I sit with pain, mine and my Angel's, and, in due course, the pain dissolves within the ferocious love between us. I end up totally open and unafraid of the love I have for my Angel!
Free Enough to Dream Again
Walnut Hills, June 24th
Dear Wind of dreams,
Your last letter was a healing experience in itself. As I entered into your fantasy and into mine, my body and my emotions were overwhelmed. For a moment, upon first reading your letter, I was confused about how to assimilate our love into my life. I immediately began to write, praying for direction as I went ahead. Gradually, I became totally open and unafraid of the love I have for you.
Once again my body quivers as it thinks of you returning. I wish so much that somehow I could get to you in Switzerland. I feel like a little girl who makes a wish upon a star and whose fairy godmother comes to her aid.
This might sound silly, but I've never allowed myself to wish like this. I've always been very practical. Maybe I've never wanted anything so much? It feels so good to be free enough to dream again and to have a wish held deep in my heart.
I would love to surprise you by walking up behind you and kissing your neck, even before you realized who it was. I would fall into your lap and hug and kiss you all over. Then we would embrace deeply, and long minutes would pass, and tears of joy and of love would stream down our cheeks. Then we would look at each other and laugh and delight in the sheer presence of touching again. Then our souls, they would laugh a little and become quiet as they suddenly realize that they have no need to enter into fresh embraces since they have never ceased embracing from the moment you left!
How good it is to be loved by you!
Take a few minutes today while you are outdoors to feel my presence, my ferocious love, my warm hands. . . . I'm closer to you than you can imagine.
Is Rachel picking you up at the airport? I would love to, but I'm sure Rachel will be, right? I'm really aware of the need, after talking with them over the past few weeks, to be gentle with Tim and Rachel. Rachel and I talked at length. She is still unsettled about us, but is very open. Tim, too, struggles, but is trying. Ahhh, so much to consider. Couldn't we just vanish for a few weeks?
Your Angel sauvage,
very close to you.
I am amazed at this letter! My Angel has been having the same perplexing thoughts as my own. She is wildly thinking of joining me in Switzerland. Then, considering how absurd this seems, she wants to "vanish [with me] for a few weeks" when I return. This is a new thought. This would allow us to sort out our lives. . . . Why not?
My Angel has passed the point of no return. She writes, "I became totally open and unafraid of the love I have for you. . . . Once again my body quivers as it thinks of you returning." Oh, yes! Come to me, my faithful Angel, my burning comet, my gift of God!
| Note to the reader: At this point, you may skip forward a few pages and go directly to the final chapter, "Distressing News." If, however, you are a fan of Bram Stoker's Dracula (novel and 1992 film), then you will want to discover how this film helped me to further consolidate my love for my ferocious Angel. In that case, read on. |
 My imagination flashes upon the condition of Mina in Bram Stoker's Dracula (novel and 1992 film). In the bedroom scene, Count Dracula is so in love with Mina that he tries to persuade her that he could never entertain the thought of having Mina join him among the "undead." He explains that she would be hunted and hated down through the ages until the end of time. Mina, however, is not put off by these arguments. In tears, she proclaims her fierce love to the Count saying, "I want to be what you are, see what you see, love what you love." In effect, she says what my Angel says to me: "I am totally open and unafraid of the love I have for you. . . ."
Then I am spellbound by Count Dracula's relenting to the pleading of his beloved. He draws his sharp fingernail across his breast and invites his beloved Mina to drink his blood and, in so doing, to enter into his "eternal life."
I find that I am quite like Count Dracula saying to my Mina, "I have crossed oceans of time to find you." And, again like Count Dracula, I unwittingly seduce my Mina by telling her my sad stories. She weeps for me, and I turn her tears into diamonds just as the Count did.
Do I love my Angel enough to refuse her in the same way that the Count endeavored to refuse Mina? Assuredly! Should I hesitate to go forward, however, my Mina would plead with me saying, "Feel my presence, my ferocious love, my warm hands. . . . I'm [already] closer to you than you can imagine."
How could I possibly refuse her insistence to be with me?
So at the receipt of the most recent letter wherein my Angel swears her eternal love for me, I am not tempted to draw back from her. Nor am I willing to credit the analysis screamed out by Professor van Helsing, "She is a willing recruit. She is a devoted disciple. She is the devil's concubine." Helsing is a conceited fool. Mina is much more than what he imagines because, in the end, her ferocious love redeems Dracula. Helsing never understood this!
Mina is the only one that shows any mercy toward Dracula. On the way toward becoming a vampire herself, she understands that he has a human soul trapped inside a monster. She puts the men to shame by making them realize that they must not hate Dracula but must act bravely in order to secure his final redemption:
I know that you must fight [against Dracula]—that you must destroy [him] even as you destroyed the false Lucy [who murdered children] so that the true Lucy might live hereafter; but it is not a work of hate. That poor soul [Dracula] who has wrought all this misery is the saddest case of all. Just think what will be his joy when he too is destroyed in his worser [sic] part [as was Lucy] that his better part may have spiritual immortality. You must be pitiful to him too, though it may not hold your hands from his destruction. ~~ Mina Harker (Stoker: 327-328)
Note to the reader: This is a simplified version of my argument. Nina, during the final death scene, says this:
There, in the presence of God, I understood at last how love could release us all from the power of darkness. Our love is stronger than death. [How so?]
The full meaning of these words only became clear to me some years later. Hence, I put them into Appendix 1 so that you can come back to it after reading the exciting climax of our central love story in Ch5. |
Author Notes
Many waters cannot quench love,
neither can floods drown it (Canticles 8:7).
Beloved, let us love one another,
because love is from God;
everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.
Whoever does not love does not know God,
for God is love (1 John 4:7-8).
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