register 16

A late-night run to Walmart for pantyhose and hairpins. At the only register open, the line grew longer as the some disturbance blocked progress at the front. A woman explains the details of her credit card story to ears that know only the functions of the machines, and cannot help the situation, whether or not they know the hows or whys. She is left with no options, locked out of her credit card due to pointless mistakes and abstract reasons having to do with number symbols communicating through computers in unknown realms completely disconnected from the humans standing in line. She leaves upset, leaving the clerk upset, and without the items she lamented that needed the most. In the parking lot I had a strange vision of her yelling in the car, driving dangerously, and facing whatever situation at home had such desperate need of those unpaid for items. I asked her if she had any cash at all. She thought I was asking her to give it to me and exclaimed, "Are you SERIOUS!?" "No, no- I just mean- I have $12, so if you have about $3, we could make up the difference." She understood that I meant to give it to her and the situation changed entirely. She was so relieved, so surprised. It seemed to me that a little warmth entered the world. She insisted on taking down my number so she could pay me back. For 11 dollars, a person can restore a small spark of belief in humanity. In a conversation on the topic of the oldest question of humanity: "are we good or are we evil," my answer was: "Right now, we are hurting." To not feel abandoned and accused by every fellow human may offer a minute salve for that wound.

Ubuntu: "I am what I am because of who we all are."

pretty

I walk above the basketball court after yoga, centered, peaceful, body stable and relaxed. My fingertips run over the red balcony bar and my face is gently uplifted. From below, he looks up at me with a smile, blond hair, and says simply, kindly, "You're very pretty." I look down at him and smile, and I begin to mouth "thanks" but don't speak; we just continue smiling for another second and then continue on our ways. Now, I walk with a delicacy that makes me feel like a girl, not rough, or boyish because of my hair. My lips feel a little more colorful, my eyes slightly brighter. "I am very pretty." This is a co-creation between girl and boy, of a woman's beauty.  

a way i've changed

Let's make love
Construct and fabricate love
Can't kiss your lips if it's a fake love
So come on, let's make some. 


The recognition of a "real kiss" depends, perhaps, on the amount of openness in your own levels of self. Root, sacrum, navel, heart, voice (listening), vision, spirit. A kiss is real, at least at this point, in the presence of danger, and it is only dangerous if you are open, because then you are exposed, no spoken agreement or contract to assure you of the sureness in proceeding. It takes the risk of being brave and foolish to enjoy the pleasure of being met there in no-man's land of the unknown- which is really the underlying state of things anyway, so to face it in its full force of possibilities is, perhaps, a way to live more passionately. 


http://youtu.be/2P38O_EKVAA 
(the movie is an old favorite. i'm posting a link to this video for the music).

lamplight reading

There sometimes occurs a certain striking moment, such as while Mom Joanna Santangelo and I were reading next to each other on her bed in the lamplight (me "The Science of Kissing," she, "Committed: A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage"), each in our own worlds, enjoying an undefinable comfort of shared presence- a perfect experience of Rilke's description of love as "protecting and bordering each other's solitude." And the realization is that: this is it; no one is ever REALLY going to know about our existence except us. Dear fellow human alive at the same time as me: we cannot carve our story into anything except our own recognition of being alive. The details of all that means for us is lost, and when we die... when we die, Friend, I should like very much to look into each other's eyes and remember what it was to exist together; you and I, Friend, once we are gone, will never be alive to anyone in the same way. I'm glad it was you.