Greetings from the Land of Enchantment: A many splendored thing

Thursday, November 06, 2008

A many splendored thing

love itself is vast. . . . but loving someone is specific and even when they're gone, it's those little things that we remember; it's those things we miss:

his voice, like a brook, a thrill of babbling water over rock, whether singing old lyrics from 70s songs or rhymes about exotic animals in spanish

the flutter of his fingers after he ate, meticulously neat--and yet not

his goofy, quirky expressions

his razor sharp intellect

his beautiful, open smile

the way he would call and respond to himself in his daily ardas

the way he always ended his practice with long time sun, even though he was by himself--always remembering his teacher and blessing him--amazing

the lightness of his touch

the smile in his eyes

the way he made me laugh

his devotion to the goddess

his mercurial, curious mind

the breadth of his understanding and compassion

the depth of his surety, his rightness

the willingness to change his mind

his broad shoulders, the curve of his spine

his sadness

his tenderness--to everyone

his attention and his inattention

the line of his nose

the fullness of his lips

the neutrality and the passion

the hello and the goodbye

weeeeeeee--the pure pleasure of the moment

the thrill

and the quiet

the ease of sitting beside him

I miss these small things and more

and then try to remember . . . love is vast


Post a Comment

<< Home