An Uncommon Bond

by jeff brown

  I arrived back at my hotel after an exhausting night of searching and noticed the phone blinking.

  A message. I pressed play, and heard Daniel’s familiar voice:

  “Hey buddy... So, she land on your head yet? Better look up.”

  I smiled at his playfulness. But I didn’t doubt my clarity. I knew something he didn’t. Her imminent arrival had been announced in the great hall of my heart.

  Ignoring him, I fervidly resumed my search the next morning. Almost immediately I bumped into a woman I had known in Canada. We had kissed once before, and never saw one another again. As we walked and talked through the town, I wondered, “Is it you? It doesn’t feel like it, but perhaps if we spend a little more time together, we can craft a soul connection.” We all know that story. After one uninteresting lunch together, I called myself on my own game and went back to the quest. Where are you, breath of my heart?

  I had never experienced such a compelling faith in something this intangible. As a long time pragmatist, I believed it only when I saw it. I didn’t feel it into form. But this was meaningfully different. It felt so certain, like I had stumbled upon a pre-encoded blueprint that had been buried for decades. All I had to do was step firmly in its direction, and believe.

  Smiling Eyes

  After a few days on the prowl, I began to feel conflicted. I was torn between the willful mantras of positive thinking: “Ask for what you want and you’ll get it” and “Believe it into being”; or a more subtle interface with reality.

  I had moved mountains in my life with my warrior spirit, but could love be summoned in this way? What state of being opens the gateway? Does determination connect two destined souls, or does it actually sever the lines? What brings love home?

  And then I did something uncharacteristic. I stopped looking. I surrendered. All the healing work I had done had apparently left an impression. Hunting for love only made love seem further away. With my will actively engaged, I could no longer feel her coming. Perhaps love needs an opening to receive it.

  It was a good learning, one I would no doubt soon forget.

  On the final day of the workshop, I slept through the first class. I wasn’t particularly interested in doing more yoga. How many downward dogs can one man do? I stumbled out of bed mid-morning, and went for a long slow walk along Boulder Creek. It was a perfect spring day, and the bubbling creek kept me good company. When I hit the edge of town, I felt a strong impulse to continue walking all the way to the Flatirons, the sandstone mountains at the edge of Boulder. Then I remembered there was one more class that afternoon—a talk on the five Buddhist precepts. Those darn Buddhists, always spoiling the fun. I sat down on a fallen tree trunk to ponder my next steps.

  Within moments, a red cardinal came flitting past me, almost close enough to touch. He was eerily large for a cardinal, and completely unconcerned about my presence. A bird on a mission, I watched him racing from tree to tree for some time, as though he was looking for something he had lost. Perhaps he was.

  I decided to head towards the Flatirons. After a few steps in their direction, I suddenly turned right around and headed for Boulder to make my final class. Walking rapidly, I was a man on a mission. I was not sure why—it wasn’t any kind of conscious decision. Perhaps it was the cardinal’s quest that reminded me of my own. Perhaps.

  I arrived a little early and sat in wait outside the classroom. After some time, I shifted my position and looked to the left. There, exiting the elevator, were the most captivating eyes I have ever known or imagined. I was too blinded by her resonance to notice her features, her clothing, her gait. All I noticed were those smiling eyes looking at me, penetrating my masks, summoning heart, soul and essence to the forefront. They knew me, I knew them. God at first sight.

  This is you.

  And then she was gone, totally gone. I stood up and looked about, but her smiling eyes were nowhere to be seen. I steadied myself, lost in a sea of feeling.

  The door opened, and the previous class emptied out. I waited a few minutes before entering, just in case she made another appearance. Where are you, smiling eyes? Bring me back to life. No such luck. She was gonzo. I entered the class and sat down among the circle of desks.

  An annoyingly calm Buddhist monk walked in and sat down. After an agitating meditation, he began discussing abstinence and the disease of desire. All the while, I ached for Smiling Eyes to walk through that door. Fuck abstinence.

  Twenty minutes in, the door opened. Smiling Eyes entered. I watched her walk across the room, as though the eye of God was clearing a path between our hearts. As she walked, my experience of the whole room changed form. Everything slowed down; everything transmuted into something more beautiful. She sat down on the opposite side of the circle, almost directly in front of me. She didn’t look up for a few minutes. I tried to look away but failed miserably. Some loves pull you close over time. This one had me by the heart-string instantly.

  I watched her gently rubbing a small blue stone. She touched it the way one touches something precious to them. I also noticed scribbles, some kind of writing, on both her hands. She appeared to be uncomfortable, almost as though she was steeling herself, preparing for a great challenge. In the background, the monk was talking about the principles of non-attachment: “Nothing to grasp…” Such irony!

  Then she looked up starkly, and her smiling eyes looked right at me, into me, through me. My soul stepped up to meet its other half. The world around us fell away. All heaven broke loose. Such grace.

  The non-attachment chatter faded into the background, as we stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed like forever. Whose eyes gaze out at me? Whose eyes do I view you with? Are these two souls or one? Intertwined with the divine, we deepened into pools of timeless knowing. It was both the longest and shortest fifteen minutes of my life. Our first undress rehearsal.

  The class went on break. I avoided her. I felt entirely disoriented—quaking, rumbling, heaving. My inner tectonic plates had shifted. It was one of those experiences that up-frames everything before it. What I thought of as vastness was revealed in its smallness. What I once called color was exposed in its drabness. I had just landed on an entirely new planet.

  At the same time, it frightened me. My feet had grown wings, but I didn’t know how to fly. What mad magic had I stumbled upon? Drugs in my lunch bowl? no, I hadn’t eaten lunch today.

  Back in class, I felt my fear-body pushing up against me. Little tremors of excitement signaled great awakening, but there was a deeper level of anxiety churning below the surface. When I finally looked her way, I saw that she was squirming, too.

  The class ended. She quickly got up to leave. I thought to leave her be, but my inner warrior commanded, “Go, get her before she is gone forever.” I got up, knocking my empty notebook on the floor. When I finally found my way into the hall, I saw her stepping into the elevator. I raced across the corridor to stop it, pushing the door open at the last moment. I entered and stood right beside her. I turned to speak, but she touched my lips and gently whispered, “No words, there can be no words now.” Touched by God(dess) for the first time, I fell quiet.

  We got off the elevator in tandem, exiting the building into a large, open field. We walked for many minutes, in seeming silence. She was right. Words were unnecessary. Our hearts, they spoke.

  When we reached the road, she turned and looked at me, her hand lightly touching my arm. She stayed like that for some time, tenderly stroking my wrist as if remembering something she had lost. Then she reached up and whimsically pulled my hat up and away from my face, gazing warmly into my eyes for yet another eternity.

  And then it was enough. She didn’t need to say it. It was time for her to go. I thought to kiss her, but, as if she was reading my thoughts, she touched my lips again and quietly said, “Not yet.” I reached up to touch her face, but she shook her head ‘no.’ It wasn’t unkind, it was simply clear. And then she turned and crossed the road without looking back. I thought to follow, bu
t a quieter voice inside told me not to. I kept watching her until she vanished off in the distance.

  Deep Shit Love

  I walked, then ran, back to my hotel room, completely oblivious to everything and everyone I passed on the way.

  I lay down on my bed, anxiously feeling into an unfamiliar landscape. It was as though my inner world was re-organizing, adjusting to a radical shift in resonance. Stretched miles beyond my comfort zone, I searched inside for something to calm me. But there was no peace to be found. None at all. I lay awake until dusk met dawn, feeling into waves of emotion that transcended the familiar. Sometimes you meet someone whose light is so bright that you immediately realize how dim you have been. What a thing—to be catapulted to wonder simply by being in the presence of another. What a thing.

  I got out of bed at 7 a.m. to look for her on the streets of Boulder. Wild-eyed and alight, I walked the town all morning, searching for a heart I felt I had known forever. I looked in the direction she had walked yesterday. I scanned coffeehouse tables, grocery store checkouts, bookstores. Surely she needs to read love poetry on this morning of all mornings!

  At lunch, I perched myself on a tree beside naropa University and lay in wait like a lonely dove, anticipating the return of his long-lost love-mate. Late afternoon, I walked back into town to look for her again. I searched well past dark without any luck.

  On the way back to the hotel, I was overcome by dread. What if I never see her again? Why didn’t I ask her name? Why didn’t I get her number? Why didn’t I SPEAK to her, for heaven’s sake? What was I thinking?

  I fell into an exhausted sleep—searching for your beloved is a tiring process. The next day, I woke up early and headed to the conference headquarters. Maybe they could tell me something. Maybe someone knew her? I walked into the main office, ready to lay down my charms in service of love. There was no one in the office other than a middle-aged woman with a particularly rigid quality.

  “You may think this is a little crazy, but I fell in love, like deep shit love, with a fellow student the other day, and now I can’t find her.”

  “How long you known her for?”

  “Just an instant. She had blond hair, and smiling eyes.”

  “Ain’t love, buddy—just infatuation.”

  This wasn’t going to be easy. “What about love at first sight?”

  “Crashes and burns.”

  “Always?”

  “Guaranteed. You can take that advice all the way to the bank.”

  I went quiet. Love’s battlefields are everywhere.

  “Oh, and get a pre-nup signed, so they don’t rob you blind.”

  “Yes, good advice.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should hug this wounded woman or let her vent. Goodness, how do you describe God at first sight to someone utterly blinded by pain? I opted to let her vent. When she was done, we got back to the business at hand.

  “So what is it you want from me? You think I can help you find her?”

  “Yah, something like that,” I said tentatively.

  “All student information is confidential.”

  “Well, how about if I told you which class she…”

  She cut me off, “Don’t matter, I can’t tell you her name.”

  I thought fast, or so I thought, “Are you a romantic at heart?”

  “Not anymore,” she snapped, forcefully slamming her book shut.

  “Well if I could just talk to that previously romantic part of you for a moment. Maybe you could send an email to everyone who was in the class and provide my contact info?”

  She just stared at me, like I was an idiot, “No can do, buddy. You’re on your own.”

  “Yah, I know. How about if I give you a grand?”

  “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that. What’s your name?”

  “Jehoshaphat... No, just call me madman, and leave it at that.”

  I left the building and sat down beside the river. Closing my eyes to meditate, seeking the inner peace that had eluded me for days. No such luck. I was too agitated, like I had been stopped right in the middle of lovemaking—though this cut much deeper. I tried to sidestep the feelings, but there was no way to float this love on a leaf down the river. It wanted to be embraced wholly, holy, soul-y. I had to keep looking.

  I walked Boulder for hours, looking for her in the oddest of places. I thought I saw her at least six times, but never once in fact. Midday, I bumped into someone I had met at the conference. He thought he knew her—her name was Margot? He gave me the number of someone who knew Margot. I called her. Wrong woman. I felt like some two-bit detective, chasing down empty leads. But I couldn’t stop looking, not with my heart so freshly opened.

  I returned to the hotel room, discouraged and confused. Why would God grant me a glimpse of grace, only to yank it away before it could be savored? How does this serve my spiritual path? What cosmic clown busted this move?

  I fell asleep briefly, until the phone rang. I reached for it, irrationally imagining it was her. It was Daniel, confirming that he was going to pick me up at Toronto’s Pearson Airport the day after next. It was good to hear a grounding voice, the voice of reason: “Take it for what it was, a nice opening experience. If she was available, she wouldn’t have left like that. More women will come. They always do. See you in a few.”

  I was actually comforted by his perspective, if only for a moment. Maybe this is how it works, we get little glimpses of God(dess) before she is fully revealed? We see her eyes, then her toes, then her belly, then her breasts, and then she arrives in complete form, but only when we are ready to embrace her. Perhaps I wasn’t as ready as I imagined. Is anyone?

  Graffiti Mountain

  I got up the next morning overcome with sadness. I decided to head for the Flatirons. Perhaps getting a little higher in altitude would shift my perspective.

  Taking a cab to the edge of town, I asked the driver to let me out near a trailhead. After chastising me for not wearing hiking boots, she pulled up in front of a narrow path beside a small creek. “This is my favorite hike, stay to the left till the dip, then walk straight up. It’s not for the faint of heart, but it’s well worth the climb,” she said with a detectable glint in her eye. Then she handed me her business card, “Just in case you get lonely later,” smiled and drove slowly away.

  Faint of heart? Was my heart faint? What was this messenger trying to tell me? I entered the trailhead. A few feet in, I spotted a handwritten sign hanging from a tree, marked “Insatiable Point.” Does the universe not have a fine sense of humor?

  As I hiked the trail, my pessimism deepened, darkened. I looked inside for an affirmation to support me, but there were none to be found. Where is my daily affirmation book when I need it?

  I sat down by a river to gather myself. On one level, it all seemed so surreal. Gone in a heartbeat, she didn’t even leave her name. Yet, on another level, it was as real as real gets. I had been with many women, and never experienced a knowing like this before. It superseded all evidence, all that could be seen, yet it felt entirely true. A new earth, one with its heart wide open.

  As I stared at my solitary reflection in the water, tears formed in my eyes. Like a wild beast of prey who had forever hunted the impossible, I looked disturbed and disheveled. Was this my karmic plight, to wander this planet alone? Strung between the mantras of wishful thinking and surrender, I wondered: Do you wish for it so hard that it comes true, or do you just let it go and leave the universe to its own devices?

  Again, yet again, how do we breathe love into reality?

  I got back on the trail, determined to lighten my mood. I had looked hard and wide for her, and she was nowhere to be found. I got to the dip, and made the turn upward, climbing the mountain itself. The path was slippery from a rare night’s rain, and it took all my focus to keep from falling. Mindfully, with measured steps, I made my way toward the peak of Insatiable Point. Halfway up, I felt something hit my arm. I looked down—a bird had shat on my shirt sleeve. Nice—a message f
rom above?

  When I arrived at the peak a few hours later, I lay down on Mother Earth to catch my breath. It had taken all my energy to get here, but my perspective had expanded. I got up and walked toward the edge of the cliff, looking out toward Boulder. A lone hawk circled just above, sketching his legacy in the sky.

  I closed my eyes to meditate, but I couldn’t get my mind off my unnamed beloved. The more I emptied my thoughts, the more her presence filled my innerspace. Breath within breath, my consciousness kept returning to those memories of connection. However fleeting, it had filled my cup of wonder. And I liked mine full.

  After only a few minutes, my consciousness shifted towards a quiet scratching sound, perhaps a small animal burrowing in the dirt. I opened my eyes and the scratching suddenly stopped. I looked out over the valley. The hawk was now circling closer. I closed my eyes again. The sound returned, this time louder, nearer.

  I stood up and moved toward it. It was coming from another rock formation, some fifty feet away. When I got to the edge, I looked down and saw nothing but large rocks. I started to climb down, carefully scaling the craggy edges. The noise was closer now. I soon spotted a small opening between two large boulders. The boulders were touching at the points, and there was a small crawlspace at the base. I found my way through it, and sat down on a large, flat rock on the other side. The scratching stopped.

  After a few moments, I saw something move below. I lay down on my belly on the rock edge and looked down.

  Just below me, standing on another flat rock, was she, the nameless she of my heart. At the peak of Insatiable Point, no less. She was standing back on the rock with something in her hand, staring intently at the cliff face before her. For a moment she vanished and the scratching returned. Then she came back into view and it stopped. Again and again, she vanished, then returned. What the fuck?