Writings. Just a Dream. Amera Ziganii Rao
I have felt alone my whole life, except with you. Gladiator.
As I stand here in front of you, as I show you myself for who I really am, how do I know you will look after me? I see it in your eyes, I hear it in your voice, that’s how. I know you will. I know you are that rarest of species who wants to. The kind of man I fell in love with a long time ago. The kind of man I saw in film. The kind of boy I read about in my books. The gentle and kind hero, the just and able fighter, who wants to nurture and care for a woman, without any need to control or take from her. And a man who sees that his role with a woman is to just help her and love her. To cherish her and to treasure her. The gift that he can bring to a woman. I see it all in you. But do I really believe it, or am I going to fuck this up?
And then at the same time as making me feel like I can be as soft and near divine as I can possibly be, you show me how I can be free to be as strong and male as I want to be too. The feisty Amazonian alongside the kind fairy. The sense that you see and love the whole woman; the strong and the vulnerable together.
The sense that you are the soul man powerful enough for my soul.
It’s just that I’ve never met it before in real life, you see. I had begun to think it was Divinity, because I hadn’t seen it in human beings. I read about it, I watched it in film, but I had never experienced it in real life. And now it stands before me in you. The sexiest man on the planet - yes truly - and the kindest one too. In one person. And you want me. You love me. The gangster with a heart. The kind rake. A real and whole man.
And I know you don’t blame me for not believing. As I don’t blame you for not believing enough either at this point. I know you know my wound. I know you know what the broken heart of a female is all about. I know you know I’m a Pakistani, and that I’m a woman and that I’m someone with big prospects but not much going for me at the moment materially. And I know you recognise and love that I’m trying to be an artist. And that it could be a long while before I do make any real money and that indeed none of it may work. You told me that it was okay if none of it worked out. That it was okay to be a slow worker and to have the courage to just go for it, instead of lying on my death bed with regrets. I know that you are not only okay with that, I know you actually like that. You find that endearing and beautiful and wonderful. And that is what has sent me into this spiral of healing pain so I can clear this issue once and for all. And I have to. Otherwise I won’t be able to let you in properly and if there is anything I have ever wanted to do in my life, it is this. It is to let you in and to trust you. It is to trust that you really want to help me by loving me without condition or pressure or judgment and without competition or jealousy. Without cruelty. With love.
How come it’s not about control, my shadow side asks. Even as I ask that, I know that the order of life is that healing has finally come. That the miracle I’ve waited for has arrived, at long last. That the terrible ordeal of a lonely life now at an end. That my past is no longer the ruler of my emotional life. Unless I let it.
You are my healer, you sweetest of men. You’re my Ivanhoe, you’re my Zhivago. you’re every gentle and kind acting role I have seen in my life. The silver screen. My first loves; Robert Taylor, Gregory Peck, Gary Cooper, Paul Newman and countless others. These men that I adored and yearned to find, because the reality in front of me was so very fucking bad.
You are indeed my Knight in shining armour. The phrase that has been so maligned and dismissed as only the dysfunctional ravings of a woman who loves too much in this cerebral post feminist anti love life. But guess what, you really are that Knight. And you as a man are my healer. Just like I knew it had to be. Because you truly love me because you truly love. And because you hopefully feel my love.
To know that the awful pain and distress of the past twenty plus years is finally behind me. That my individual work in isolation is over. That the miracle has arrived. No wonder I find it hard to believe. And even harder to learn how to receive.
“You didn’t need me” was what the last man in my life said to me. And he was right. I see that now. I couldn’t need him is the truth. I couldn’t rely on him. Just twelve months ago, I was still rampantly self sufficient and self caring. And then at the same time of course, incredibly needy. Only the amazing professional healers I have had the privilege to come across, heard my pain and my vulnerability. That made me see it for the first time and not judge it. Because I showed it to them and because they could see it even before I opened my mouth. And because they cared, because they could. No one else. Controlled exposure was the order of the day.
My parents were still in control. Even though I had left them at 19. With their utter resentment at having to care at all for other human beings still in place. With their huge incapacity to love still haunting me.
I see now how I stopped asking for help when I was about four. The full tragedy of me making a decision not to trust any one.I know what they have experienced too. But that still waylays me from healing the truth of my wound. I have to acknowledge the full horror. That it was terrible. It was so awful. And it cut me very very deep.
And now you are here. The most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life who happens to be the kindest human being as well. Because you have healed your attitude to vulnerability too. Because you know your inner rage too. Because you feel your spirit too.
And of course it makes me ask where have you come from and who hurt you. I want to wash it all away as I soothe your handsome brow. To show you how immensely special and valued you truly are. How magnificent a man you are because you honour life’s frailties and therefore yours and mine. And how it shines out in you like I’ve never before seen. Merging the two worlds so you vibrate with the brilliance of earth and heaven at the same time.
I see how it is healing you too. How, somehow, the fact that I do need you makes you feel so good about yourself. How is that? I know fundamentally that it is not about control. I can see it and I can feel it.
My father is the same today as he was 43 years ago. He still judges me, he still has a dig at me like some evil pseudo wizard, and he still resents helping me. It may be more subtle, it may be more measured. But it is still there in the same way. How he thinks anyone who needs any help is lazy and stupid. How the word compassion is one he has no concept of, at all. And how a part of me hates myself for needing his help now, even though I know there is a strange justice in it and a strange would be healing of some kind. Healing with the original monster I guess. It will be over soon.
But now the angel I have begged for, ever since I can remember, has come into my life. You. A real life, real male. A humane, vulnerable, sensitive, strong, virile, genius minded man. Are you really telling me that you will support me in everything I do? That it doesn’t even matter if I don’t achieve anything? That you will look after my vulnerability in every way possible? That you will love me throughout? Does that really exist? Do men really do that? Does anyone really do that? The beauty is I am beginning to believe it.
Can I really share my doubts and fears and worries with you? Will you really cherish and nurture and be kind to me? I believe it. Because I have seen it. The glorious encounter we had – I call it the Balcony moment - showed me the whole truth. In your face as the sun beamed down on you. Your wisdom, your love, your sexuality and your compassion vibrate with a shining brilliance and your voice soothes the past like the coolest and purest waterfall. And your eyes take me to a place where time really does stand still.
You know, I manifested you into my life. I showed the Universe I was ready for them to answer my prayers. So I must believe that you can exist. And that I do deserve real love. That I do deserve to be treasured and valued and helped. If I didn’t believe that, you wouldn’t have come. That it is not just me who has to help other people as I have done ever since I can remember. That there is someone for me. Someone to care for my humanness. Someone to watch over me. On earth. As it is in heaven.
I can see how you want to hold my hand through it all. That you know how to do that and how you want to do that. That I will be helping you by letting you help me. No wonder I am confused. I have never seen that in my life. From anyone. Certainly as a child. I guess recently, I have started to see glimpses of it. People around me have started to show real love, without judgment, without ignorance and without trying to own me. I have begun to show my vulnerability and ask and even demand that it be looked after. So I do have a context within which to put your extraordinary level of focused love. I do have a few friends now, who support me, help me and want me to lean on them. To a certain extent. The whole experience is so brand new. Because I am looking after it at last. Encouraged by gorgeous beings like you.
Even my mother has seen the light enough to know that vulnerability is actually allowed. Even though she still regards her problems as the most important in the world and certainly more so than mine. Both my parents are still hostages to their egoes – bless them – and my brother too. While I may have enough compassion and constructive self sufficiency to see that, it still cuts me deep. And it was why I was so desperately unhappy before I found you.
Because you are telling me, I feel, that you want to be everything to me. That you want to replace people like them and be my one and only. That you can love me.
And I say yes, yes, yes and yes. I do believe. I want to believe and I am determined to believe. That this is the greatest and most sensible risk I have ever taken in my life and ever will. To believe in the power of real love. To be with you before I am ready. Before I am the complete package of a selling artist, materially comfortable professional or emotionally alchemised human being. You tell me you want me now, when I am far from perfect and you tell me that you love me more for that. That we can grow and heal together and that nothing I do will ever make you love me less. I have to believe to be able to take that kind of risk and I therefore say today, that I do.
Amera Ziganii Rao © 2008
Amera Ziganii Rao. A Profile
Amera Ziganii Rao © 2011
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