My Victorian Romance

I'm in love! It’s true, I’ve become romantically entangled with a man who’s several states away -- in Idaho. He's moving to Illinois in November, but until then, we're having quite the steamy Victorian Romance.

Perhaps I should explain... If he were close by I could at least visit. But alas, he’s in Idaho, the land of potatoes, so many states away and in a situation where the internet is unavailable and phone calls are scarce. While the situation and the distance are rather unfortunate, it has given us an interesting angle that many modern relationships often lack. We are getting to know each other word by word, page by page, a very Victorian romance... all by letters, few phone calls, no visits or even e-mails.

I met him on one of the many camping trips my best friend and I have taken to the mystical forests of Indiana. Now I know most people don’t think of Indiana as a highly magical, romantic and especially not a sacred place that would inspire a sense of awe. (In fact, whenever I use to think of Indiana, it usually brought to mind images of cornfields rather than any feeling of enchantment.) But you’ll just have to take my word for it. It’s not all of Indiana or even all of Needmore, the area where the campsite resides. But the land is pure magic. Even the name for the pagan camping ground, Lothlorian, lends itself to the mystical feel of the land. But if you haven’t been there, you could never know. The trees are tall and lush and form a canopy over your head as you drive the winding road. Birds of all kinds will serenade you as you wander through forests gilded in sunlight or sheltered in clouds. There’s a river flowing deeper in the woods away from the campgrounds where you can go swimming. Wooden signs dot the landscape telling you when you’re entering “Robinswood Forest”, “The Song Shrine” and many other bewitching locations with similarly extravagant names. There are clearings where you can pitch your tent, tipi, yurt, dome or whatever and they too have clever names like “Shaman’s Circle”, “Healer’s Circle”, and my favorite “Theater Circle”, where we often camp, as well as many more. They have shrines dedicated to corresponding gods, goddesses and other spirit guides. It’s cared for by a group of pagans who call themselves elves. (Now these are not true Tolkien elves and especially not the elves of “The Lord of the Rings” movies with their amazing clean magic. These are humans with all their wonderful flaws and smells and propensity towards getting dirty. And yet, they too have a certain magic about them.) And no, it’s not the most rugged kind of camping since firewood and showers and composting privies are provided for... there’s even a café where meals can be bought. But everything, like the composting privies, has an ecological aspect since these elves see themselves as stewards of the land, not merely users of it. After camping, grass seed is available and its use is highly encouraged for campers to sprinkle on the ground where they camped. They build everything themselves and have policies to regulate any and all pollutants. Rules such as, “bring only biodegradable soaps and shampoos”, are posted on their website http://www.elflore.org for guests to easily view. The air is pure and the very spirit of that land can be felt throughout. I truly believe in the mystical nature of the land and that magic did not falter in bringing us together.

It has been six months since last I saw him. It's hard, but with each letter, I fall more and more in love. Now, I'm not so niëve that I don't realize the dangers inherent in this situation. After all, there is an advantage to not having to deal with a person's daily foibles and it would be easy to ignore the reality that will come with him moving closer. I am terrified... I've torn open my ribcage and allowed him to crawl into my heart without checking too closely for sharp objects that could rip my organs apart. More than loving him, it shocks my system that I TRUST him... It freaks me out.