Posts Tagged love
Meeting people in real life that you only know as voices through your computer is always entertaining, in an emotionally masochistic way. Especially the ones you flirt with. There’s always this tension just before you meet, like waiting for lightning to strike. Will they look the same? Was it just the myth of photographic truth that I fell in lust with? Is there any truth to what they said? And it is like a lightning strike. In an instant everything is rendered true or false, black or white, electric or insulating. In the best case scenario they and the camera have in fact been truthful and the pull between the two of you is undeniably gravitational. But then what? Neither of you are skilled at being in person, after all, isn’t that why you’re meeting people on the computer in first place? So you orbit, two starts, tidally locked, rotating around each other but never actually making contact. And you aggrandize it in your head to make everything perfect and fine this way. You like the chase. You don’t know what you’re feeling. You’re need to be SURE they’re interested. You’re doing it for the joy it brings; to know you’re wanted. And maybe, just maybe, you never intended to do anything with them. But sometimes, it works the other way, and you get hot and bothered over this other person who you were both lukewarm over the other but in meeting and seeing each other, shallow people you both are, its more than just orbiting one another: you want to feel the heat that they can give off, like warming your face in the noon-day sun.
Falling in love at first sight is overrated. Also, a little unwieldy. I mean, what if you’re dating someone? What if you really love them? People say that it’s just lust at that point: that you’re not really falling in love with the person that just walked by, or that you’re not really in love with the person you’re with. But that doesn’t change the fact that you made eye contact, or brushed against someone accidentally and felt something. It always feels like motion. An uneasy sense like an elevator starting or stopping too quickly and your stomach falling through, but horizontally. Like something inside of you just pulled towards them and you didn’t move, or pulled back, or sideways, but not in the direction you were going. And then there’s this wobble. Say it’s a best case scenario, and you get to be around them a lot. There are these weird moments, first you don’t see them for a while, then they start coming around more and more frequently. You feel like a comet or an asteroid caught in the gravitational pull of a greater object, orbiting with extreme eccentricity. The odds of anything happening are about the same as asteroid-you getting captured by planet-them… either you never see them again and disappear into the dark void between the stars, likely to crash into something else or burn up in the heart of a star, or you crash into them and a sweaty, heated night of lovemaking ensues and then it’s over.
It has come to our attention that there are those who simply cannot grasp the precepts of Ecstasy as a Path. For those who are interested, these codes make up the core, perhaps simplified, version of a primordial belief system that has no Church beyond the Self and its Aspects.
It is our goal to feel all that we can feel, physically, emotionally and mentally. When confronted with new experiences, to dive into them with relish. We apply this principal to the tragic and the comic equally.
It is our hope that no Ecstatic, in light of the first principal, would ever willingly stand between a person and their Experience.
For an Ecstatic, the reason for Feeling is Feeling. For those outside, the reason for Feeling is so that we might apply our Experience to guide others. There is no difference.
An Ecstatic tastes hardship and finds joy. An Ecstatic looks at his failures and mistakes and finds lessons. An Ecstatic looks at the chaos of life and finds peace, hears the pains of his body and finds pleasure. An Ecstatic feels their lover and finds the Divine.
An Ecstatic respects the decisions of others, and will never seek to force a new experience upon another. Not all will be ready for every experience, and Wisdom is knowing when to press and when to let go.
An Ecstatic answers only to their Self. This does not mean the laws of the Land are not important.
Growth is the Experience by which the other Experiences receive context.
Ecstasy is a way of Life, concurrent with all Religions. Ecstasy is not the only way.
From the first time I looked in his eyes, I saw Death; piercing, penetrating through the sylvan depths. I saw other things though, the usual things that a soul reveals when you know what you’re looking at. Joy, sorrow, hope… most of all though, I saw the brilliance of a short life that will have been lived well.
I will not say that I didn’t hesitate. When Death waits so close to a person that their very soul speaks its name, everyone hesitates; that’s the point when people make the choice, whether they know it or not. They have to decide if letting go of something great is worth more than suffering the death of a loved one.
But man is a creature born in screams and hounded by terror. Too often we make the choice to avoid pain, after all, life is full of it already, why choose more? I didn’t though. I saw Death, I said hello, and then like a scared teenager meeting his date’s father, I politely stepped inside.
“Hi, sir. I’m here to date your child. I promise I’m a good man with pure intentions and I will have her back to you before you notice she’s gone. And yes, I see that shotgun and know that you won’t hesitate to use it to make my life terrible should I break my word, but my word is my bond because… well, because I am a good man. And you can threaten me as much as you want, but sir, I promise I will love your daughter with all my might, and I might bitch and complain when I have to bring her home, ‘cause I know that it won’t be pleasant, but by God, I will honor my word.”
And we did. I threw myself deep down into the depths of a never-ending well. I knew I would fall for the rest of my days, but I didn’t care. I wanted all the time I could get to bask in the radiance of that presence. To embrace and comfort, to share burdens and responsibilities. More than knowing the impending Death, I wanted to be with him.
I know he is gone now.
I hope that he isn’t; that fear has overpowered intuition.
Now I revisit the memories that I have of us. Memories of us being around each other, hanging out, being intimate, relaxing or being active, drinking, drunk, watching television, sleeping and watching each other sleep, waking up together in time for work, or in time to lock the door after the other, dancing, dreaming, talking, whispering, kisses, making out, making love.
I think of holding you, dancing in the kitchen while you sang softly in my ear… Only, it’s the you that’s injured, the you covered in blood that may or may not be yours, the you that I have to let go of. I pull you close, I hold you, I put my lips up to your too-red ears; I tell you that we will always have our memories of each other… I lean into the embrace, bearing your weight, and whisper: