A re-telling of the true 12th century love story of Heloise and Abelard. Abelard is a great philosopher and theologian who has taken, like many academics of the time, a vow of celibacy. When he is hired as a tutor for the brilliant and beautiful Hel...
I did not hear from him, in all those many years we were parted. I did not know where he was, or what he was doing, but I thought of him still. I thought of him always.
It was he who pushed my pen strokes, as I had once pushed his. I lived in the glistening nostalgia of our past, replaying and replaying, and scavenging like an archaeologist through ruins for all those gems of thought we had once come up with together. We really did write the world from our bedroom.
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Still, I prayed for him. I prayed to him. You might think me weak for my constant, steadfast devotion - even when he seemed to show none of it return - but to that I would say: it is strength, not weakness, that is shown in following the heart. There is strength in keep the flame alive in it when it is constantly threatened by the covers of unfeeling ash - when even the object of your desire has thrown ash to it!
Weakness is giving up, and I did not believe - not even for one second - that he had stopped loving me.
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I knew that he rewrote our time together in new narratives but I knew that a desperation underlined all of his attempts. OF HOW, BROUGHT LOW BY HIS LOVE FOR HELOISE, HE WAS WOUNDED IN BODY AND SOUL.You do not say such a thing in indifference; you do not say such a thing without feeling so deeply one way that you have to throw the pendulum off the other way. He loved me, and so he matched it - pushed it back - with every ounce of shame and regret.
He rewrote his narrative, but the pen was too heavy. The lines were too thick. They were desperate. One does not defend so deeply what one already knows is true. Truth is found in silence - not found in constant convincing. This is why the wisest among us are the most silent; when you know something deeply, you need not compensate by sharing it loudly.
I knew he loved me still, and that it frightened him. It threatened to take everything away from him, as it had done before.
He tried to wipe his slate clean and start anew.
I told you, he pursued greatness with the same fervor that I pursued him. I told you our goals ate each other alive.
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