Friday. Magical evening. Flowed with the go. Flowed with the ego???! Kept repeating the mantra “the world is not about me, the world is the world.” And as I sat next to my new friend, the fascinating Franciscan/ Modern Saint Ignatius / Modern Christian Samurai (if there is ever such a thing), I focused all my attention to him, not to me, to him. I smelled the breath of your therapeutic marihuana lift to “get you ready” for an evening of music. I looked into your eyes as you told me about your vow of chastity, yet you exuded absolute passion for things that can be tasted, felt, seen, smelled and appreciated by the senses. And then when the music started, I focused my attention on the music and was totally enraptured, however so very so very aware of you, my beautiful and fascinating friend. Fascinating because you are a paradigm. Fascinating because I get your passions. Fascinating because I understand you in any language, even the body language you wish so much to suppress.
I listen to music without prejudice, I told you, as you sought to judge sounds that you preferred not listening to. Yet you agreed with me, and acceded to listen with ears and heart open, ready to be surprised. And so you were, as the notes reached your soul, as the human spirit in charge of each instrument expressed the love. You gave in and sensations flowed in and out and back again.
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
If freedom was something to be tasted, it would be the taste of sugary rose petal.
If joy were to be smelled, it would the smell of freshly baked bread and coffee.
If love were a vision, it would be seeing all of you from head to toe, naked and smiling.
And if this life were something to be felt, it would the soft touch of your hand in mine.
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Saturday, surprised myself as I became a territorial, primitive beast. Jealousy is a mean thing. And when it is mixed with pride it is a terrible and silent bomb.
It’s a good thing you forgave me.
I listen to music without prejudice, I told you, as you sought to judge sounds that you preferred not listening to. Yet you agreed with me, and acceded to listen with ears and heart open, ready to be surprised. And so you were, as the notes reached your soul, as the human spirit in charge of each instrument expressed the love. You gave in and sensations flowed in and out and back again.
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
If freedom was something to be tasted, it would be the taste of sugary rose petal.
If joy were to be smelled, it would the smell of freshly baked bread and coffee.
If love were a vision, it would be seeing all of you from head to toe, naked and smiling.
And if this life were something to be felt, it would the soft touch of your hand in mine.
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
Saturday, surprised myself as I became a territorial, primitive beast. Jealousy is a mean thing. And when it is mixed with pride it is a terrible and silent bomb.
It’s a good thing you forgave me.
I am your first challenging student in this path.
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
Sunday, the pain, the self-questioning, the slow realization of accepting the imperfections of this path to self-knowledge. The embarrassment and the wonder. Forgiving myself and learning how to communicate.
And today, you again say to me: I love you. I know you because I know myself. And so, as we stretch and expand, the limits of this love seem to dissolve. No boundaries. Only this. This love!
¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨¨
Sunday, the pain, the self-questioning, the slow realization of accepting the imperfections of this path to self-knowledge. The embarrassment and the wonder. Forgiving myself and learning how to communicate.
And today, you again say to me: I love you. I know you because I know myself. And so, as we stretch and expand, the limits of this love seem to dissolve. No boundaries. Only this. This love!
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