Buffy the vampire slayer may not be considered one of the great philosophical references our of time but it has it’s gems and I think this is one them:
Life isn’t bliss, life is just this, it’s living.
Yet again I felt that sense of connectedness that I wrote about in thinking with my heart. It is strange to be going to the dentist, shopping, posting letters, walking the well worn paths of weekday life and yet feel the swell of something beautiful, breathtakingly and yet so sad, turning just below my thoughts.
I think we often imagine that to be close to what is real, what is meaningful, we need to be crossed legged under a sighing tree or gazing soft-eyed at an ocean. Today I had that strong sense of being at the still point, at the juncture of what is and is not, of what matters, whilst arm deep in dishwater in my marigold gloves.
I thought, ‘it is here, it is now, it is this’, an orgasm, a crescendo and the wet sud gurgle of the drain. It is there somewhere, the something nothing, the universe printed on a post-it note.
Like true love, there are just no words for it. It evades the pin of language, it will not be caught. It is like that stunning view on that perfect day when the camera broke – it cannot be shared and is somehow more precious and yet more painful for it.
Today my raw heart filled me, lifted me. I wanted to talk to people, to reach out, to hold a hand and read the trees in its ragged lines. I walked through the town conscious of all the worlds sliding by my bubble, those complex amazing selves gliding past on busy streets. We are each a genius of creation cloaked in poly-cottons, clothed in the mundane.
I wanted to shout beauty to the sky but instead I bought a sandwich, then sat down and watched the world go by.
It is hard to feel yourself coursing through the very veins of life without looking like a bit of a loon….