Permission Granted

I have given myself permission to miss everything – mother, father, friends, lovers, once-in-a-lifetime-opportunities, everything – except this.



Listening to Jamiroquai, Never Gonna Be Another on ABC Lounge at, my heartstrings are troubled. Images – not quite memories – arise of me seated on a velvet sofa, light streaming in through a window, surrounded by music. In this not quite past I am reading but mostly being with another, at peace. I wonder if we will give ourselves the chance to discover what being together requires in this present gift of time. Not infrequently we approach this possibility. Most times we are stuck in the three-steps back phrase of separation in some inarticulate Cha-Cha, the chasm between us widening, yearning to share any rhythm at all, no longer caring for one familiar, losing even while leaning in the direction of the echo.