A few years ago, as summer slipped into the folds of fall, I felt a transition. Time stood still, and I walked around with my mind completely quiet, taking in everything as if I’d laid my eyes on it for the first time. For the first time, I wasn’t lost in the details of my life … I was lost in the present. Just the present as it was happening around me. All of it. When you are really happy, blissful, time disappears, space disappears. One is transported to another world.
When I read his sentences, something very deep rises within me — a wail, as if in mourning, remembering a quiet, forgotten bliss. There is a recognition here, as if something has been erased from my memory, and the words sting the spot. There is something in you that has a great receptivity for truth, almost a longing for it.
Yesterday, he told me about love and relationships. The importance of love being a verb, not a noun — relating instead of being in a relationship. Go on searching and seeking each other, finding new ways of loving each other, finding new ways of being with each other. Getting deeper into the other, knowing his feelings, his thoughts, his deeper stirrings, you will be knowing your own deeper stirrings too. Lovers become mirrors to each other, and then love becomes a meditation.
The day before, he defined life and freedom. Life goes on moving with a thousand and one uncertainties. That’s its freedom. Don’t call it insecurity. He said that insecurity is an intrinsic part of life, and that’s a good thing since it makes life a freedom and a continuous surprise. Don’t call it uncertainty, he said. Call it wonder.
I guess life is still a wonder now. On Monday, I was tired and almost stayed home. But at the last minute, I thought about the plan I had set out for myself the day before: Put on a warm coat and go to the political debate. “Oh, big deal,” my mind complained. “You won’t miss much if you stay in this cozy bed, I promise!” So I slipped out of bed to find out if mind was lying.
Turns out I really would have missed a great debate. Would have missed meeting some of my neighbors, a few of the candidates and signing on to help an inspiring woman’s campaign before election day.
But most important, had I stayed under the blankets, I wouldn’t have had the chance to discover that the man behind the bar is actually a spiritual healer. You are very sensitive. You get hurt very easily. You eat a lot of sugar. You have ambition, but you don’t follow through with a lot of things. It was already 2 a.m. I felt the tears rise. I looked down in my purse and fumbled to find a few more singles. (It’s a new bar, and it’s cash only.) “Tell you what … add our bar’s Facebook group to your page, and we call it a deal,” he said.
Instead, I got home and added him as a friend. And now I pry his mind almost daily.
That is the joy of love: the exploration of consciousness.
Who would have thought.