Thursday, February 13, 2020

In Lieu Of Valentines

Sometimes I write to try to relive a thing, to recapture how something once felt to me. But that can really hurt - either because it doesn't happen when you want it to, or because it does when you just think you do.

Sometimes I try to write about other things that happened between us. I never really get beyond the setting. What became a religious practice of candles and a certain kind of music. A transition from profane to sacred space. An elemental opening up and an involuntary outpouring. It's true to say I never wanted to leave that place once we found it. It is also true to say I wanted to die there.

And here's where writing can be useful. As I wrote the last paragraph, I realized it was the depth of the opening up that made it so different for me. And that space we entered, I wondered if it was really we or only me. It's hard to look at things sometimes.

Basking, you called it. Yeah, I sure was. And I was awake to every second of it. I miss that place, like water and air.




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