by Mark Ulyseas
In Gethsemane: Transcripts of a Journey www.amazon.co.in
Nights in white satin, moments of ethereal joy culminating in being one with another. Nuances of divinity wrapped in a cloak of sensuality. In these instances we dwell, dwell among the subtleties of caresses yearning for this to last forever. And when the moment is gone, when the first rays of a rising sun bathe our senses, we imprison the memory and replay it ad nauseam till another experience comes along.
Often a memory is embellished to a point where it is recreated into another memory, a memory that never existed.
There are those among us who are scared of letting a memory slip into posterity for fear of being unfaithful to the moment, for fear of losing a beautiful feeling, for fear of being unfaithful to the other person. And this is futile for that bitch, reality, always plays truant in times of la petit morte, (the little death)…in the enchanted moment when one is lost to another.
On All Souls Day I received a telephone call informing me about the death of the mother of my son. Silence followed me the rest of the day as I walked in the garden listening to the murmur of leaves as a gentle breeze brushed against them. They spoke to me of love and heart break, of separation and joy.
A simian clutching her baby sat on the boundary wall and watched me, her eyes following me as I walked up and down the garden. She knew about life, about the sense of lose I felt for she would call out to me…a cry that sounded like the wail of an impaled animal. And as the sun set she quickly grabbed a mango from the tree and disappeared.
When twilight laid herself across the lawn and embraced me in her effervescent light I knew then that nothing, not even memories are forever, and like everything else, this too shall pass…
…and all that one can do is to savor every moment like it is the last.
Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om
December 28, 2012