Written August/September 2016
We talk till my eyes close up, my teddy bear in her arms, the one I’ve had since I was two years old. I briefly remember other such close interactions with a few female friends of a similar age – there’s something really magical about being so close without needing to be anywhere else. No need to get closer, or further away. In this situation, the intimacy is purely spiritual – physically we’re sat opposite, and though the eye contact is strong and real, the relationship doesn’t seem to require being physically closer. God communicates through us, and this situation is really a work of the divine, communicating through both of us. She goes to Israel soon, but promises to come back here, to my mountain hermitage, before too long.
I go to sleep late, and do not run in the morning. It’s been like this for weeks, or the running part at least. The late nights are brief cocoons of memories. In a few months, wings will hatch, and the air won’t be so much full of gravity anymore.
Every day, we sand stone. The stone I’ve been mainly working on is for the nine planets, and is a very hard stone. The salmon pink with emerald green colours of the stone make me feel sick and tensed. It’s like an open heart, with blood and clots everywhere.
I go to sleep every night clutching my teddy bear. I tell her I can’t sleep without it. She finds that so cute, and maybe doesn’t realise that it’s true. Living as I have been in this ashram world, with little shared physical connection with anyone, has made it absolutely necessary to have a teddy bear to cuddle up to at nighttime.
For three of the last four nights I’ve dreamt about kissing, and even woke slightly one night noticing my hand in a perfect mould of her lips. Two nights kissing the same girl – not long gaping kisses, but more short loving kisses shared every so often whilst running around doing other things. I wake with my heart yearning somewhat, but strong, and really do feel blessed for the experiences I’m having in all respects at the moment.