Last week, I was blessed by a moment of unforeseeably deep connection. A few hours of blissful erotic communion, beyond anything I could reasonably expect: an opening of two discreet selves into a Third revealed between us. Without any certainty that anything like it can or will happen again. The man I shared it with lives an ocean away. When we met for coffee a few days later, just before he finished his short professional trip, we acknowledged that we may never see each other face to face again. What happened was for me (and I believe for him as well) too profound not to speak of this honestly.
It's bittersweet, holding onto the faith that experiences like the one he and I shared are just as valid, just as real, in light of their passing away. A reminder that all of life is in fact like that, and our attempts to slow or halt the flow of time are what's illusory. Longing is the foundational condition of our life. Memory is the great storehouse of the psyche where those treasures are still held. The place where sadness and joy come together to reveal a core truth of our existence.
Anne Carson would tell us this. The Buddha would tell us this. St. Augustine would tell us this. But most importantly, our own experience can tell us this.
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