In the presence of love...
I stand in the presence of love.
A radiating power of love.
... and I look to see how I can be sure it is the presence of love and not merely my own artistic whimsy...
For starters, I notice that in its presence I can indeed look- there is space which shows up as absolute unswerving trust for me to open myself into... there is no need for walls of defenses which... when I look for them... I notice are already melting by themselves so fast- it takes a moment for me to realize they are gone and I am standing naked and unafraid.
Superficial layers of polite conversation burns off fast... eclipsed by the brightness and sheer joy of being with her. Again! And in this very moment everything suddenly falls into place... everything is right... everything is okay.
It is yesterday once more.
Everything is perfect.
It's perfect.
I am here... and she's here.
That's how it is. That's how we met... as a play... in which who we think we are at any one time is not who we 'really' are... in which who we think we are is simply one of the many choices we have of ways to be.
I entertain all possibilities. I touch all realities.
She teaches me to love myself as acts of deliberation... and not simply as self-respect. When I set aside my assessments long enough to hear what she is saying... and then to experiment with it... the results are dramatic. Even startling.
Can it really be this simple? Was it always this simple? How do I explain those nine years of incapacity?...
Was it really so easy? I ask myself... and want a day, then test it again.
Same dramatic results... same sense of being who I really am rather than being who I identify myself to be! A rush of blood... warmth permeates my body... many a masks fall from my face... and even though I've slept only a few hours these past four days... I feel rested... refreshed and... happy.
Free to be... empowered to be with her... totally mesmerized.
TWO
It must've been late. She tells him 'we'll talk again later"...
"He smiles"... turns... and puts the phone down.
...and quietly walks to the other end of the hotel room... away carrying his almost finished cigarette... his black slacks rustling crispy at the sharp creases...
He looks at himself in the mirror... unshaved... and says it aloud, "Life is simple because he is ordinary". He feels he has finally conquered his own fears... until it occurs to him... not listening to her had come at a terrible cost of lorn.
THREE
It is 2008. He is seen hurriedly burying remorse deep... far too deep. If anyone could've been near him at that time, they could have heard his mumblings to be... a mantra of... 'I do. Yes I do.... Still!'
FOUR
I welcome you back. Humbly.
1 comment:
very lovely. I'm currently taking a creative writing course at MCA. It's mainly poetry. Even though it is prose, it seems as though some lines almost become poetic due to syntax and connotation.
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