If you
look
up the adjective "adventurous" in the
dictionary,
it's likely you'll see her
photograph
in the margin, illustrating it. More than almost anyone else I know,
she
chooses
carefully whatever she's going to
participate
in
next.
She's very, very specific with what she
considers,
selecting from within a narrow spectrum. But once she's made her
choice,
she throws herself into whatever it is -
wholeheartedly,
totally,
completely,
fully-commitedly.
And once she's in it, she
plays
like she's in it for life.
Happy
to be with her again,
I listened
her
sharing
what she's up to now. She said she was newly engaged in
practices
which enhanced her
experience
of and access to the spirit
world
(that's what she called it). I respect peoples'
practices.
If I myself don't
practice
their
practices,
there's neither an implied disagreement with them, nor a criticism of
them. It's
simply
that I don't
practice
them. I myself have no investment in the (quote unquote) spirit
world
- which doesn't deny she
gets
value there.
Look:
she said she
gets
value there? Therefore she does! I said there's no other
world
for me. For me, there's no other
worldworth
living in. "I'm always here" I said.
I'd
considered
emphasizing "here" when I said that (like "I'm always
here") to underscore the
point.
Instead, mindful of how we
human beings
are thrown to misinterpret things, I knew I had to tread carefully.
Emphasizing it, could actually
get
in
the way
of the very
point
I was making (it's pure
Zen:
when you emphasize "here", you unwittingly reinforce the
distinction "there", when there's really only
"here" here, yes?). So I said "I'm always here" - just
like that:
bland,
no inflection, no emphasis, no stress ... and waved my raised arm
instead, spontaneously gesticulating to
the walls,
the floor, the ceiling - ie the physical space: "I'm
always here.".
She seemed to take it as a rebuttal. In fact I
intended
it as a
contribution.
And isn't that
classiche said she said? (we've all been there).
Collecting
herself, she said "There's
a place you go when you
die?".
She said it one third assertion, one third challenge, one third
question,
and expounded on it for a while. I said "Maybe there is
such a place;
I don't know if there is or there isn't. But whatever
that place
is or isn't, it's
what's next
- eventually", my
pointbeing
that whatever it is about
that place it's said we go
when we die,
you can be
god-damned
assured it won't be what people usually ie
colloquiallybelieve
it to be. All we know for sure is it's coming.
That's all we know, really, with certainty: it's
whatever's next.
Every
human being
who's ever walked the face of this Earth has confronted that. And to
borrow the call from
the children's
game
of hide-and-seek: it's coming, ready or not!
It's
whatever's next.
That's what I said. Like that. And she said ...
nothing,
her brow furrowing.
Expanding, I said "This place ie this here, this
now, is the coffee shop, and I'm drinking coffee. When this
ends, this place ie this here,
this now, will be the
freeway,
and I'll be
driving.
I don't yet know what that will be like. But it'll be the
next
place I'll eventually be, and I'll find out soon enough what it's like.
It's
whatever's next.
Where we go when we die,
wherever it is, is like that.". "Oh no! It's
not as
simple
as that?" she said, again in thirds. "... or ... maybe ... it
is ..." I said, my
attention
suddenly captured by a burst of sunbeams
dancing
on a glass cabinet, dappling it with prismatic flashes of light - for
the first
time,
not
looking
her
directly
in the
eye.
Too soon, it was
time
to go.
Standing
outside, not cocooned by the white noise of the coffee shop's
air-conditioning, I could now hear the sound of the
freewayclose
by, beckoning me. She hugged me warmly, and I her, my
mouth
so close to her cheek I kissed it, and whispered in her ear.
"I love you"
I said. "Thank you" she said.
