9 - a languorous and luscious rhythm
We have to be committed not to miss or neglect any opportunity to suffer, to have an experience, or to be happy; our soul arises refreshed from all of that.
—Rilke, “On Life and Living” in The Poet's Guide...
~~~
Camille was running late. I was sipping on my second Bombay martini: dry, on the rocks, extra olives. And there I was, had that glow of expectation, that smile we all notice in others. We know they’re happy, we’re witness to the moment they’re in.
I had commandeered a perfect location on the backside of the Hotel Del. I was facing the water, 100 yards from the ocean’s edge, waves crashing in. The sunset would be just to the right; we had front row seats. Her late arrival allowed me to roam in imagination. I began to conjure the moment I’d see her for the first time outside the confines of the hospital.
There’s a long promenade that approaches the bar and everything begins to slow down, as if in a film of my own making. The bartender, the waitress, the couples here and there, the individuals moving along the path, all in a rhythm surreal. I envisioned her approaching, her blonde hair undone, flowing, and the joy/expectation in her eyes, the easy gait, sensual, oh so sensual,… are you with me? Maybe you’re sitting across, with your family or friends, and you look over and there’s this gentleman, 50ish, funky long grey hair, white stubble, sunglasses, and he’s beaming. So giving it off, so entranced. It makes you double take. He’s fiddling with his cell phone, texting someone, and he keeps looking up, down the path to the gate that opens to the scene.
It is rare that such scenes play out the way we’ve imagined. So, so rare. And I get a text from her, she’s parked the car and on her way. The anticipation builds. I am transfixed, relishing the thought of watching her approach, a languorous and luscious rhythm, slow motion… and we’re there, she’s at the gate, I can see her. She sees the bar, I stand up and wave, she removes her sunglasses, gives a slight wave back, innocent and hesitant, and she approaches, it takes time, an eternity, and the conjuring extends and elongates, this the moment we always remember, a looking backward toward the first crystalline effects.
How long does it take to think and say, “I love you”? The uttering of these words never easy, never occurring right off. Say it aloud in the first moment and she up and leaves. Hold on to the feeling, the intuition and instinct of it, admit to it, see it clearly and you are transported, heading out into the open sea, a journey with no destination, into the unknown you go.
The sensation, to not know what will happen, but wanting to step right in, and now she’s before me. An awkward hug, but sweet, and I linger with it, just enough to lock on to her scent, and the rest a dream, the details of what we shared not important, it was the experience of this one moment, the unsettling effect that the slate was wiped clean, that with this woman I can be myself, vulnerable and forthcoming, someone I can trust, someone with no axe to grind, nothing to prove, just a human being who wants to live and love, right here, right now.
It was as if we had picked up where we left off at the Infusion Center, just kept right on sharing…
Tuesday, July 6, 2010 at 5:28AM 
Reader Comments (3)
Enjoyed reading through the entire series today. You always have a way of making me smile. Keep the truth-telling going my friend.
(Poke)
I enjoyed it Mr. Maxwell.
Wonder how many times this scene has played out in people's minds. where do we all take it from this point is what is in each of our own heads.