Touched

I was touched by your honesty, your vulnerability - your ability to see and receive me and then express your needs and what you have lost - its the way men need to be these days. We go to therapy - but really, it’s all in the living - how we turn to each other - receive each other in the midst of everyday life. There was a moment when I was going to keep inside what I was really feeling - but the world is too late for fraudulence - for keeping back the real us - what is true and moves us. Whether to tears or some exploit or just being with what is. I went to the ocean to listen to Tempest - hold your own she said - and again I needed this - to feel everything welling up in me - to hold myself as only I can - for I fear you returning and me crumbling into a heap and seemingly not holding my own. My own life is over. That much is clear. The old ways I used to move and create and be have had their day. Palma non sine pulvere - the victors palm, but not without the dust of the arena - gone - all gone - the victories, where are they? All gone to the dustbin of history. But here we stand on solid ground - groping in darkness - using our souls as lights to guide. When we have no foes - we are weak - we need to be goaded to good work. We need the thorn in the side, the crippled leg, the wrestle with an angle - God knows I do. I look across at my father and I am still in reverence for how he moves and be’s in the world. I take leaves from his book all the time - and yet I am me - do not need to augment the alive soul that I am - longed for by friends to join at table and bring the wild spark that I have, that you have, that all things in this magical world of love have. I love you!