Infidelity & The Call of our Soul
I’m reading The Unbearable Lightness of Being, a remarkable novel by a literary genius, Milan Kundera.
In one of the scenes, Tereza, the wife of the protagonist (who himself is a total philanderer), has sex with a stranger from a bar to see what it’s like to have sex without love.
As she walked to the stranger’s flat, she thought:
Hadn’t he (her husband) told her time and again that love and sexuality have nothing in common? Well, she was merely testing his words, confirming them.
In his flat:
Oddly enough, the touch of his hand immediately erased what remained of her anxiety. for the engineer’s hand referred to her body, and she realized that she (her soul) was not at all involved, only her body, her body alone. The body that had betrayed her and that she had sent out into the world among other bodies.
After the encounter:
Did her adventure with the engineer teach her that casual sex had nothing to do with love? That it is light, weightless? Was she calmer now?
Not in the least.
Tereza knew what happens during the moment love is born: the woman cannot resist the voice calling forth her terrified soul; the man cannot resist the woman whose soul thus responds to his voice.
Such unbearably light reading, huh?
To the last part, I wrote in big purple ink on the bottom of the page: is that true for me? i.e., Am I able to resist a woman whose soul responds to my voice.
In the past, the answer was no. Today, the answer is yes.
But it is indeed alluring, nonetheless.