I cannot explain it. I cannot recreate it. I can only tell you that I didn’t know what I was looking for, but, nonetheless, it was what I found.
Twice?
I found it first in silence, at college. The young woman I loved, after an evening of affection, sat a few feet apart from me as we looked at each other in silence. Neither of us averted our eyes during an hour in the stillness. There was no plan or agreement. It just happened.
I could say we created a sacred space, the space around us and between us. I might offer that, but I am not sure what it means. It seemed that something more was there, more than what could be defined, transcendence from one state to another, floating and ethereal.
Together, but innocent.
Much later, in a relationship at a distance with a different woman, the two of us unconsciously erased the miles by creating a bridge of words, and sometimes a beam of voices. We lived for this tightrope and met each other there when geography separated us.
Not so easy, you say? You are right. But we came to see each other without sight, understanding each other beyond knowledge and surfaces. We were vulnerable, missed our missing fathers, and honest to the point of painfulness.
The words do not do the relationship justice. They never do.
I retain friends from fifth grade and later, as well as from high school. I retain buddies, period, you might say, and have platonic love for some of them. With many, there is atypical openness. It helps to be a clinical psychologist.
I am lucky to have my children and grandchildren close by, the former after years away, mostly at school.
If heaven awaits as good as advertised, I will welcome it. In the meantime, in an uneasy world, I look for friendship, silent communion, ways to repair the world, spontaneous laughter, and the chance to say “I love you.”
I laugh with physical therapists and MDs, too. Sometimes one can make necessities into opportunities, at least a bit. In life, there is no free lunch. Lives must be shaped, reshaped, and adapted. We must live and love “despite.”
Do as much as you can in the time you have.
Join the club if you can. No requirements.
It is spring, after all.
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The image is Alphonse Mucha’s Spring,1896, sourced from Wikiart.org/
How lucky are the women, friends, daughters, and grandchildren in your life, Dr. Stein. You have created a bridge of words with all your readers. Make Heaven on Earth. Keep on moving!
Making heaven on earth is perhaps the best advice — ideal and necessary for all times and places. Thank you, Evelyn.
Oh my. This description of connectedness is so lovely, Dr. Stein:
“But we came to see each other without sight, understanding each other beyond knowledge and surfaces. We were vulnerable, missed our missing fathers, and honest to the point of painfulness.”
Thank you. A beautiful essay to start my day — complete with a gorgeous Mucha treat. 💝
As I hope you gathered, the Mucha was in response to your recent blog that mentioned your love of Mucha’s work. It fit the essay and gave me a chance to honor our friendship. I am glad you liked it, Vicki.
Yes! I loved the Mucha callback! Such fun. Thank you, dear friend! ❤️
For sure life is short!!!
I imagine this is based on personal experience, Laura. So true. Thank you.
You are doubly blessed. To have wonderful people in your life and to recognize that you do. Thanks for sharing this!
Very kind of you, Tamara. Yes, I have been very lucky, though I didn’t always know it. You are welcome.
You describe so well, Dr. Stein, our inner transformation through connection with another soul. During the end of our days, true connection with others near and distant is all that truly matters.
Thank you, Rosaliene. Connections, especially as we age. You understand it and me very well. Much appreciated.
This is beautiful, Dr. Stein. Everyone else’s comments have said it so well. How lucky you are to have so many loved ones in your life, and to recognize what a gift that is.
Thank you, Erin. I don’t usually put my good luck on display. Indeed, I could say more. You are leading an extraordinary life of a different kind, but I imagine that someday you will look back on it and wonder how you were able to do what you did.
Wonderful post, Dr. Stein. A lot can be said in silent communion. The spirituality and connectedness of those engaged in it is powerful. What you said about how, “In the meantime, in an uneasy world, I look for friendship, silent communion, ways to repair the world, spontaneous laughter, and the chance to say ‘I love you,’” really resonated with me. There is a lot going on in the world right now, but if we just do the things that you highlighted, we’ll be in a better place for sure. I know a lot of people want to repair the world by getting rid of government, politicians, and the like. But I would say that helping our neighbors in need and feeding the hungry in our communities is how we start repairing our broken world. I just read that Wynne’s daughter, Miss O., just won an award for being kind and inclusive. That gives me hope that our world is going to be in good hands when we are gone.
Thank you for your always thoughtful commentary, Edward. Yes, there is much to do in the world. I am glad you hold on to hope and do your part to enlighten people through your book reviews and, other means. And, as you say, if winning young women like Miss O receive the baton with grace and a strong will, things will be in good hands.
You’re very welcome. It’s always a pleasure to engage with your writing, and we are definitely in good hands if we get more young women like her.