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Elvis…Priscilla and a dusty old piano…finally I am starting to understand love.

Posted Oct 27 2010 12:51pm

Elvis and Priscilla.


Elvis was a big part of my childhood…his music was the backdrop of many memories made at home…


My parents had a mutual love for him…which, at that time, my parents didn’t have a mutual love for many things…to me, Elvis made some tender memories for us.


When Priscilla came out with her book, “Elvis and me.”, I begged and begged my Mom to get it for me.


My Mom gave in, as she did most of the time(I can be very persistent)…


I think I read it in two days flat. I didn’t come up for air. I read it as soon as I got home from school…until dinner was on the table…after dinner was consumed…before going to bed…before going to school the next morning…


I attribute that book to the start of an unraveling in me that has been going on in me ever since.


Up until that point I still saw love as one dimensional. I saw the way a man loves as one dimensional.


I still believed in what fairy-tales had taught me…what was ingrained in me from my Mother and her Mother and her Mother…


When I started reading the book, I was all sparkles and rainbows at the love the two of them shared between each other. How much you could tell Elvis loved her and wanted to protect her…awww…so sweet…


Then I got to the middle of the book…what? Who is Ann- Margret? Juliet Prowse? Natalie Woods?


I remember distinctively the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when my safe little bubble of “sex=love” burst.


But he loved Priscilla. Adored her. How could he be with other women?


And in being with other women, does that mean that none of that love was ever real?


These are questions that started the unraveling that has basically turned into the lifelong quest for truth and balance against what society says should be true about love. No matter how much human nature goes against that truth.


Every relationship I have had? Only adding to the chipping away…and year by year I become more and more free…closer and closer to what I believe is the TRUTH for me.


Up until now I haven’t been able to put it into words…where I stand.


There has been a war going on inside of me…a truth that was force fed to me against a truth somewhere so deep I can’t quite get to it… that refuses to be shut out…It has been raging and I have yet to take a side…


Until a night a few weeks ago…where it finally became clear to me just exactly what kind of love I want in my life.


I sat out on a patio with an old friend…drinking wine and smoking cigars…


The double doors to the lounge were slightly cracked…


Suddenly between wafts of cigar smoke came the most beautiful and haunting melody…being played on an old piano.


There is something about the sound of the piano that hypnotizes me…always has.


I tried to concentrate on the conversation I was in, but the music kept pulling at me and I had to get up and take a peak into the room to see who was playing it…

That is when I saw him…


They say he was Liberace’s protégé…a man in his 60’s…slightly hunched over…

He couldn’t see me, his back was to me…even so, I don’t think he would have noticed…


I moved to where I could see him play from the side…where I could see his face and his hands…

That is when it hit me…


The kind of love I believe in…


That man comes to that old piano every night…it is all he plays now. I am sure in his day he has played the newest and most exquisite…grand pianos…pianos that have been played by the most elite…perfectly tuned pianos…


Yet, here he was playing this one that had become so familiar to him…yet he was playing it like it was the first time.


The passion coming from him moved me…

Because it wasn’t about the piano…it was about the man’s love for music…it was about a love so deep in him…that he didn’t care where he played…as long as he got to play.


That is what I believe love to be.


I used to get so wrapped up in the physical perfection…the high standards I held of the looks of the person I chose to be with…I used to believe in the ‘new car smell’ you so desperately want to last…


True love comes from a place so deep in a person…that they choose…they choose to come back and be with you…and when they do…they play you like the first time…because it isn’t about you, the piano, it is about making music.

It is about making love.

It is about freedom of choice.


It is about the comfort in knowing which keys stick and what pedal needs a little more force. It is about coming home to something so beautiful in its reliability…you touch it with all your passion and wait for that sweet music to come out of it.

Love.


The choosing to come back…over and over…

The being that conduit…that old piano…that allows and is there for the playing…being that open…that grateful.


I used to believe the person is the ‘love’ , not something within me…and in that belief, put so much pressure on the other person to live up to that sky high expectation…instead of understanding it is a choice. It is a gift…we give to each other.



Would be like believing the piano is the music…


To the man I choose to be with…I want him to play me…for love’s sake come back and play me…and each time you do I will thank the heaven’s for your return and pour out a sweet, haunting melody that I can only make with you…when you take the time…make the choice…to play me.

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