Found some pictures of an August or July evening from about four years ago. Two friends and I spent an evening just playing around and taking pictures for a couple of hours. I think we then went to some restaurant or bookstore/coffee shop and hung out there…then one of the friends went home while those of us that remained spent the rest of the night talking until six the morning. I don’t have any idea what we talked about, or even if it was particularly insightful or important but it almost didn’t matter.
The magic of the evening and the dawn were in the company.
Being able to be open with another person is so rare. Trusting another without fear of consequence…being able to open one’s heart…being able to give one’s heart to another. In life we meet so many people that are reckless with that…and somehow it’s easy to forget that. Somehow it’s easy to be reckless with another’s trust and love. And then what? How does one fix that? You can’t go home again, but could you rebuild it? It’ll never shine like it used to…so what’s the point? Or is that just giving up before trying?
For the longest time I thought I wanted solitude. I figured that in silence and distance I would gain a deeper perspective—a greater insight into myself and the world. Funny how now I just don’t much like what it is I see.