there's just this big thing called "adult life" ahead of us. i'm sure we'll get by.
we always dance to the same tunes and sing the same songs. we were never wrong about love after all.
to life, to love, and to tattoos!
"the heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground… the heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become." ~the unbearable lightness of being by milan kundera
i would never have known lightness till i learned how to bear the immenseness of your body on mine for every borrowed time, the weight of your stare piercing through me, dismissing my body and acknowledging my soul that is your soul when we finally drown inside a paper cup, the pressure of your hands against my breasts… that feeling of intimacy, my feeling of being owned and subdued and owned, the violence of your thrusts, your way of claiming my piece of earth, the tightness of your grip as we untangle our tangled legs from last night’s caress, the fierceness of words we stabbed on each other’s backs when we drew our last breaths to say the dreadful goodbye, the abruptness of forever when promises are drawn out of our mouths and spit to the ground.
if only we could hold the years and keep it in our pockets, i will never reach in for change.
the weight of the world is so much easier to bear than the lightness of the tangible "us".
somewhere between your smile and your frown are the days we may have caused each other pain without even knowing, not noticing the spaces between your fingers and mine are getting wider, crevices moving farther apart, the fissures more pronounced, so well defined. so much so that when sunlight hits our bodies, one can make out your shadow and mine, together, but separated by some sadness inconceivable to the naked eye.
somewhere between my eyelashes and your chest are the tears shed when we can no longer meet halfway in closing circles. i would run around its side and you would always be at the center and we no longer come to the understanding of things.
somewhere between the flicker of lights you come home late, quiet as a whisper, afraid to startle sleep in my eyes. but i know that the closer you lay beside me, the farther you move away from my embrace.
somewhere between our breakfast of coffee and cigarettes is the smoke that clouds our conversations, boiling in heat then later catching fire. and we burn and burn till we turn into embers that turn to ashes. we have burned our love out so that when i look into your face i know… that somewhere between your smile and your frown, we have fallen apart.
"…at that moment, it seemed to him that time stood still and the Soul of the World surged within him. whe he looked into her dark eyes, and saw that her lips were poised between laugh and silence, he learned the most important part of the language that all the world spoke- the language that everyone on earth was capable of understanding in their heart. it was love. something older than humanity, more ancient than the desert. something that exerted the same force whenever two eyes met, as had theirs here at the well. she smiled, and that was certainy an omen- the omen he had been waiting, whithout even knowing he was, for all his life. the omen he had sought to find with his sheep and in his books, in the crystals and in the silence of the desert.
"it was the pure Language of the World. it required no explanation, just as the universe needs none as it travels through endless time. what the boy felt at that moment was that he was in the presence of the only woman in his life, and that, with no need for words, she recognized the same thing. he was more certain of it than of anything in the world. he had been told by his parents and grandparents that he must fall in love and really know a person before becoming committed. but maybe people who felt that way had never learned the universal language. because, when you know that language, it’s easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether its in the middle of the desert or in some great city. and when two such people encounter each other, and their eyes meet, the past and the future become unimportant. there is only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only. it is the hand that evokes love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world. without such love, one’s dreams would have no meaning."
"…the truth is that I “saw” the girl, I saw her in the
branches of the bare tree that stirred lightly when a benumbed sparrow flew to
seek refuge there; I saw her in the eyes of the heifers that come out of the
bard, and I heard her in the bleating of the sheep that crossed my erratic
path. It was as if all creation spoke to me of her, and I desired to see her
again, true, but I was also prepared to accept the idea of never seeing her
again, and of never lying again with her, provided that I could savor the joy
that filled me that morning, and have her always near even if she were to be,
and for eternity, distant. It was, now I am trying to understand, as if- just
as the universe is surely like a book written by the finger of God, in which
everything speaks to us of the immense goodness of its Creator, in which every
creature is description and mirror of life and death, in which the humblest
rose becomes a gloss of our terrestrial progress- everything, in other words,
only of the face I had hardly glimpsed in the aromatic shadows of the kitchen.
I dwelled on these fantasies because I said to myself that if the whole world
is destined to speak to me of the power, goodness, and wisdom of the Creator,
and if that morning the whole world spoke to me of the girl, who was
nevertheless a chapter in the great book of creation, a verse of the great
psalm chanted by the cosmos- I said to myself that if this occurred, it could
only be a part of the great theopantic design that sustains the universe,
arranged like a lyre, miracle of consonance and harmony. As if intoxicated, I
then enjoyed her presence in the things I saw, and, desiring her in them, with
the sight of them I was sated.
"And yet I felt a kind of sorrow, because at the same time I
suffered from an absence, though I was happy with the many ghosts of a
presence…
"…now I know that good is cause of love and that which is
good is defined by knowledge, and you can only love what you have learned is
good , whereas I had, indeed, learned that the girl was the good of the
irascible appetite, but the evil of the will. But I was in the grip of so many
and such conflicting emotions, because what I felt was like the holiest love
just as the doctors describe it: it produced in me that ecstasy in which lover
and beloved want the same thing, and for her I felt I felt jealous, but not by
the evil kind, condemned by Paul in I Corinthians, but that which Dionysius
speaks of in the “The Divine Names” whereby God is also called jealous because
of the great love He feels for all creation. I was jealous in the way in which,
for the angelic doctor, jealousy is motus in amatum, the jealousy of
friendship, which inspires us to move against all that harms the beloved."~Adso of Melk
