“How long does it take you to get here?”
“Start driving and zero pressure or expectation.”
As I poured myself into my ride, with my mind racing and burnt out from the weekend, I encountered a rare playlist uncertainty. I landed on one of my favorites and cranked it up. An instrumental titled “I Feel Space.” In that moment, I felt all of the cosmic distance rushing through me. The vast expanse of the infinite.
As I sailed past the mountains of my home and on to the highway, drowning in my music, I realized I had honored the request. I was so lost in my drive that I had simply omitted the overcomplication that expectations bring, allowing myself to be free from their burden. Without intentional effort I had kept my first promise to her and to myself. For a moment, I was overcome with joy.
As I entered her space, I noticed the peaceful energy. This space had not been tampered with. It had not been shaken or stirred by conflict. It had not been unraveled by spite or revenge.
“Am I safe to be myself here? What if I am too much of myself? What if my nerves cause me to share my darkest stories? What then?”
“Do not spoil this space,” I thought. Not again. Do not desecrate this temple. “Speak only in the universal language of love and peace. Then she will surely understand you,” I thought.
“You can have a seat,” she said as she tapped a carefully constructed pile of fascinating fabrics and pillows. Straight from a Beatles song, I allowed myself to rest on the floor next to her. As I took my first intentional deep breath, I felt tranquil to the point of immediate drowsiness. This was the first time I had rested this weekend, and now I was in a strange place with someone I’ve only once met. Maybe I could fall asleep and my dreams would transport me to my own bed. Or maybe I was meant to be here.
As the evening progressed, we shared bits of each other. Funny quirks and idiosyncrasies. History. Laughing. Vulnerability. Scars. Honor. Gratitude. Space.
As we connected, she lay down with her sweet dog. She encouraged me to get closer and I shaped myself to the contour of her body. As she began to soften, she lay completely silent. I could feel her embracing our connection. She was relaxing and letting go. I honor this moment. I appreciate it. I respect it. As I consider what to do with my hands, I also wonder if I am moving too fast.
“Not like that.” She suddenly says. “Slower. Let’s go slower.”
How could I miss this? We have barely given each other a subtle smile and nod in the hall. This is a moment to be present and not let the mechanical part of the brain take over.
We reconfigure. As I look into the mirror of her eyes, I can see my reflection. No words are necessary in this moment. A joining of hands draws us closer. What is this feeling? It feels so familiar. But so new. As we gaze, I can feel us studying each other. Digging. Subterranean. Excavation. The glacier that had built up around my hopeless-romantic heart had begun to melt. The pool that was forming was meant to be circled by us on a moonlit drive with no destination in mind.
As I let this moment course through my veins, I considered what could it be named. What is this feeling I’ve forgotten, yet have known all of my life? I haven’t felt this for many years, yet it rests at the front of my brain and hangs on the corners of my heart. Is this moment real? Is it love? Is it attraction? Not so simple. Not like that. Slower.
This was true intimacy. We are now connected.
