The other day I went trail riding for the first time. It was wonderful. One of my friends who does this often describes how expert riders seem to “flow over” obstacles like rocks. I think that’s how things have been going in my life in general. I’ve been flexible enough to be swept along in a largely positive tide of events, and have managed to keep just above the surface to maintain my intended directions. Things have been incredibly hectic and busy, but also wonderful.
In this rush of forward momentum, I happened to stumble upon something of astounding beauty and familiarity. Someone. Not someone I had known, but someone who - I am not kidding - I feel like I’ve known all of my life. I’ve never imagined the immediate, overwhelming sense of attraction - and more to the point - familiarity - that I felt for this person. I was astonished, and frightened. Not without merit. What feels comfortable and familiar to me is more like pistols at ten paces than walks on the beach at sunset.
This week, through some bizarre misalignment of constellations, I’ve arranged 6 dates in 7 days, each with a different person, none of them with him. And I’ve found myself thinking of him and feeling oddly disconsolate. Which bothered me a great deal. Because - why? Why was I thinking about him?
I cracked the code yesterday. In the rush of new things, he is like Home to me. He is the person who speaks the language I grew up speaking. The feeling I get from hearing it spoken, from those familiar cadences - it almost doesn’t matter what he says. Almost. And what I wanted, in thinking of him, was to know that home would be there.
And then came along the Imp of The Perverse.
I’ve burned the ships. I told him I missed him, and I think that means that we are done.
This morning I woke up elated. I’m far from home and ready to make my life in the new world.
Song of the Day: The Strokes, Automatic Stop.
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