Wow. It's been a while since I posted last. It's just been busy, that's all I can attribute it to.
We spent a busy three day weekend fixing the car and several things around the house, and now we're trying to recuperate and focus on work. This weekend we'll be gone again, to B's brother's house for a family event, and I'm still not sure how I feel about that. It's more socializing than I've ever had to do, and all new people to meet, all of whom I want desperately to be accepted and loved by. No pressure there... lol
Yesterday I read an article in Slate that I had to sit and think about. http://www.slate.com/id/2192282/ This article references another article, which reported on a couple living together in the Arizona desert, practicing Buddhism, and have vowed to never be more than 15 feet apart at any given time. The couple in the Slate article tried the experiment in their own lives, and concluded it as a somewhat silly, granola-type of thing that was totally impractical.
I read the article in the Times for myself, and did have to concur that they were the granola sort, and that a lifestyle like theirs, lived in a yurt in the desert with no running water or modern conveniences, might be more conducive to peace, enlightenment and togetherness than say, our life filled with outside jobs, kids, a yard, and several trips to the grocery store a night, might be. But I was still left, in the end, thinking that the Slate couple missed the essential point of the exercise. The Slate article says about the couple "The two never stray more than 15 feet from each other. When they eat, they share a plate. When they read, they share the book—the faster reader waiting for the slower to finish the page. When they do yoga, they inhale and exhale together."
B and I have what we call 'melt time', which we do frequently, as the need arises. Our melt time are those moments when, after we've been out dealing with the world for awhile, after we've disagreed, or had a particularly intense encounter, we hug, and our bodies seem to melt together. It's a recharge moment; a moment to reaffirm that we are not alone in the world. That no matter what happens on the outside, nothing can interfere with the fact that this creature, this person whose heartbeat we can feel against our chests, loves us unconditionally, and sometimes that one thing is all that you need as a human being to have the strength to try the difficult things, to chase the heights, to go out into the world and be the best you can be. And frequently, during these times, we end up giggling uncontrollably, because invariably the deeper we sink into that oneness between us, our breaths begin to synchronize, to coincide, much the same way several women in a household will begin to cycle in tandem. The first few times it happened we asked each other "Are you doing that on purpose?" But we've come to realize that it's a melting phenomena... a sign that we're where we need to be.
Yes... it sounds 'granola'. But I have found that when you find that person, that place where the universe wants you to be, that everything else becomes easy. And you can no longer be away from that person for very long any more than you could tear the pericardium away from your heart and expect it to function.
Fifteen feet may be pushing it. I, for one, value my bathroom time, and we all need our moments of solitude and a space to call our own. But when he's been away for an hour or so out in the garage, and I've been doing my thing in the house by myself, we frequently meet each other at the doorway in between, saying "I was just coming out/in to find you".
We dance in rhythm, and it is blessed.
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