We hold fast to our human traditions as if abandoning the commandments of God is as easy as celebrating the victors of the latest super game given to us by the powers-that-be crafting our lives. Fascination will return. The health of the family will become a concern. Unannounced visits to those caught in the process of being made well will once again unfold between neighbors. And promises to serve each other tomorrow will be kept even in the midst of fear and sadness.
Holy One of the generations, one following another following another, how many times must we leave each other to follow the wrong star home hoping it will lead us to the divine jackpot? Call us back into ourselves and away from all that seeks to separate us from one to another and another; and there, following your will, find everything greater than what we have always been looking for. Amen.
She made new green coverings for the swing that seats two which I hung on the front porch. Undisturbed peace wraps around us as now we move gently back and forth looking forward to the coffee silently brewing in the kitchen. A neighbor passes. Greetings exchange with greetings. Morning smiles appear. Neither my beloved nor I wander into abstract ideals in our conversation. Rather we create devotion by pointing to the sunlight dancing around the leaves. Let civilization plod its own path. In this moment of today there is no time for dancing along the fine line of challenge and comfort. And visions can wait to develop. There is no immediacy to share in a world where certainty needs each movement swinging between now and forever.
I remember summer days when birds crowded the feeder and more walked below pecking at fallen seeds. Somewhere a preacher asks of those listening with ears to hear to draw the meaning of scripture out of the mythical realm and into daily experience. Do the birds hear the same words? The secret given to us at dawn, does it still remain quiet and secure after we have given it away so many times? Though the words of the questions remain the same, they can be rearranged in infinite ways to provide the answer to the one question always being asked: Will the birds feed today?
The vanishing disquiet of my heart reminds me of the sacraments I missed long ago; replaced with sacred moments different from the last. Others may look upon how I search for the symbolic and say, "It just didn't work well," but we never came to any agreement on anything where protecting our own wishes, desires and dreams mattered. How can you tell if people are not interested? How many bad looks does it take before the fascination of slowly coming together becomes, and even overcomes, anything folded into two parts laying next to one another?
Come, let us make futures for one another. Without our knowing the snow will turn to rain again And back to snow again. If all we know of delight comes from our wishing for what we deserve or even desire then being in the presence of the one that loves will be more than enough again. Imagine being the only guest for one another after meeting for the first time and then to meet again in some present future where the rain turns to snow and back again.
I said, "I have decided to give my life the title 'Extreme Experiments.'" She said, "Funny, I don't consider myself extreme or experimental." I said, "But you have given me the possibility to recognize a grander perspective." She smiled. "Two people. Peculiar lives. Some shared space and time spent in each other's arms makes all the difference." I smiled, too. "I had no idea this conversation was going to turn into a love letter." She said, "As one brilliant mind wrote, 'We complex people cannot retreat to blockish simplicities.'"
God of bits and pieces, God of the whole, who allows the length of time to pass unabated; gather up the remnants leftover from forgotten meals; mend the fragments fallen from our hands; unite the untidy workings of our minds; for we are caught up in the little we have here and in the little we have there. Amen.
An incredible encounter of tingling minds, inspiring both to move beyond flirtatious eye-play to a deep place of wanting to know and to be known. Distance and separation between events during this time drive despair of not being physically close away as fear of severing any relationship dissipates. Initiative to share the same experience rests on the intensity of always returning together again from being lost to the other as great events happen during evenings.
Knifing my way around the edge of the sqaure pan of brownies, I say, "Everyone wants the middle piece." She says, "I am not a middler," while grabbing two inches of crisp edge. I grab one whole side of edge, "A perfect relationship is found in sharing." She smiles, "We both love the edge." I say, "And eat the middle if there is room." She declares, "There is always room in the middle between us."