I want to feel my way into this a little…I want to try to communicate something about intimacy. Let me share with you now, that when I try to put this into words, above all else I am sharing something completely personal to me. I have absolutely no certainty that this will make a jot of sense. It almost feels unnatural to share it, but I’ll be a daredevil for now and perhaps I’ll trust that the more personal and uncensored I am, the greater the likelihood of saying something universal. See if you can see where I’m trying to point to….but if you can’t, it’s just because I’m not getting my hands on the right words. I’ll start with an old memory.
When I was a young child, I used to play this game, sometimes alone, sometimes with other children. I’d pretend I was swimming under water, lying on our kitchen floor, pushing myself along with my arms, through the imaginary shipwreck of our kitchen table and chair legs. And then, in the midst of the laughter and effort of this, I would look up into an inside corner of a piece of furniture or some dark spot……and a feeling would come over me that what I was looking at was utterly private, anonymous…..as if I was disturbing a little piece of life that was never usually revealed by awareness. And then an urge would come to just stay there and look, followed by a feeling that this unexpected little moment of unintended experience was absolutely equal with every other normal experience in everyday life.
There was just this feeling that every experience in life simply had to be “equal” with any other experience, no matter the difference in how widely lived any experience was. This is the best I can do, I’m afraid.
I bring this up, because this feeling of “equal-ness” that I would get as a child when playing around (the same feeling would come over me when putting a mirror on the floor and making a new upsidedown world to explore) is very close to what I would call “private experience”….the two things go hand in hand really. By “private experience”, I am trying to point to that moment when triangulation stops….when we stop knowing what we are looking at. In truth, we only “know” our experience by bringing a third party of thought, of another’s authority into the equation. If I’m honest, when it is just me and what is before me, there is only intimate, unknown experience. It is seen but it isn’t known. And so, in that moment, there is a feeling of equal-ness….a feeling that if this moment lasted for ever, even looking up into that mysterious underside of a cushion, there would be not a single secret in life left to discover………and with all this, the utterly obvious fact that there is no such thing as a “wrong” moment.