Sunday, 23 July 2017

My Space


’Well; hello.’

‘My name is Linda.  I’m a friend of your mother’s.’

‘Yes, I remember seeing you once.’

‘She asked me to look after you until she gets back from her vacation.’

‘Look after me.  As in, cook my meals, or something?’

‘Yes.  Or…whatever.’

‘Oh, she didn’t have to do that.  I’m not helpless.’

‘I know.  And she knows.  But she just wanted to make sure that things were okay, when you got back from camp.  How was it?’

‘ - what?  Oh - camp.  Yeah.  It was okay.  I got a bunch of ribbons, for various competitions.  Running and swimming.’

‘Hey, that’s great.  So…what would you like to do.’

‘As in….’

‘Look.  Johnny.  I won’t beat around the bush with you.  I’m not here just to cook your meals.  Your mom wanted me to, introduce you to…well.  Sex.  In a word.’


‘Yes.  She said that you needed an education in that regard.’

‘…Well.  Okay.  But not in my space.’


‘My room.  That’s my space.’

‘Well.  Where would you suggest?’

‘I dunno. But not in my space.  That’s…’

‘Your space.  I got it.  O-kay.  I’ll figure out something.’

‘You don’t really have to, you know.’

‘Oh yes I do.  Your mother has already…taken care of things.  In that regard.’

This is not a fully true story.  But it is close to how things were close to being ‘taken care of in that regard’ some years later, after I had dropped out of university at the end of my Junior year and went to live for a time and season in New York City, looking for ‘the largest public library in the Western world,’ to help me uncover Truth with a capital T.  I had had ‘a spiritual experience’ while at school, and life was never going to be the same for me ever again.  It was in that circumstance that I took a small room in a cheap hotel on the seedy side of Times Square, within walking distance to the Main Public Library; where, one evening some time after I had moved in, there was a knock on my door.  I opened it to find a young gal, just standing there, as if to say: ‘You rang?’  I hadn’t; so all I could think of to do in the moment was to say to her, “You must have the wrong room,” and closed the door on this interruption of my reading on Things Of Substance.  I didn’t give that curious little business much further thought, until some months later, when there was another knock on my door one evening.  Lo and behold, there was another young gal, just standing there, as if with the same question hanging in the air between us.  This one, I recall, was a brunette; whereas the first mysterious young gal had been a blonde.  Both quite attractive, I might add.  I closed the door on this interruption of my reading in the same manner, and with the same words to my Lady Caller, as previously; but began thinking, afterwards, if the next time it was going to be a young guy standing there; having at last figured out what was going on.

Just not with my main focus of attention.  For, with all the reading that I was getting into regarding matters of Truth, I was getting more and more confused.         

All, taking place in

My Space.

P.S. It took me to go live in a spiritual community some years after that, and for some years, finally to experience this little bit of business in this realm, regarding ‘sex’.  Connection between people.  Males and females.  Our Polarity creating a space of some substance.     
     Just not the real thing.
     And as we heed the wake-up calls asking us to return Home, to Reality, we will know that.  More and more, insistently.


    Our Parts, Warring

The parts are warring in me
Of the pacifist on the one hand -
                                  for we
Are All One, you see,
And needing to recognize that fact -
And the warrior on the other;
The Avenger, of the land
Of the Covenant.

Which is it to be.
As Hamlet queried.

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