Intimates: A Journey Towards Sacred Sexuality
Page 42
PART 4: INTIMATES
(!)
:words - all that we have to share, accept them these sounds which are our breathings come into you as there is the imagining, of an us and a we, a you and a me, a they, the ineluctable I: image it as eye, seeing, words, these are the magic, the mysterious force, what makes the presence present … feel, understand the fullness of these words: how much the babe is the fullness of the word, a simple word: love: but more, a word which is urgent, urging, ur-grounding: primal: a word of creational fire: firk and fuck and cock and cunny: ah, how the fire has left the flesh: know from us with these words that flesh is a candle, the wick the presence, the we but the blending, at once one but two: as two yet one: fuller: not less, not a diminishment: yes, a consummation, a consuming: this is what the intimate is: consumer: but where is the flash? – it is in the eating which is a ravishing, a ravenous feasting:
:feasting – how else but the feting, the festival? Lilith who has been all seasons, all time, who has been me, and me: Zav, who has been all things, all spaces … intimates: we speak, I speak: it is dreaming – to you this comes because of the spiraling, the Spiraling, the allocation, the permeation, the profusion of presence not just in four-square, not just in quadrants of identity, more fully as the Flow spirals and the Spiraling flows: ah, words! images, imaginings, indeed, metaphor and simile: oxymorons: what was Zav but Lil’s oxymoron? This the hunger which fills, is not to be filled, is the conduit on the Spiraling (which is never but spiraling) … this our dreaming: we know this: I know this: I know this, too:
:dreaming – my beloved, have we not dreamed all their dreams? have we not taken to our wakeful presences the joy, the pain, the delirium, the whirling of creating? Our kisses the press of all lips? Our embracing the squeeze of dying gone blissed? Our coupling the eruption of presence beyond and through and within and without? … Wakefulness, listen children, is the cock as brush, the cunny as canvas: paint your-selves and in such artfulness play with the oneness of paint and canvass: with the bountifulness of imagining: Court, Couple, Create:
:intimacy – cunny consuming cock, cock consuming cunny: Speak! Dream! Imagine!
("Spiraling!")
(Bullshit.)
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It was as if the air had changed, as if it were now a conduit, no, more a bodily member: not distinct like an arm but like emotions: the touch of an all enveloping presence: all the bodily members united by that something called a "feeling," yet, it was like touch, yet not tactile, more, like the touch of sight, yet, it was still other: stranger, maybe peculiar would be the word they would have chosen: a lick; but all this was not of a sharply conscious moment nor was it of a vivid conscious memory, as if they knew the date and the time, rather, it just happened, yet, again, having happened they more fully "knew" themselves as before it had happened: sighfully, one of the joys of this change is that they did not have to talk about it, merely think, no, again, not just thinking as in plotting or planning or analyzing but as in a glance: all their knowledge and knowing in a glance … when the grandkids came, then it was most robust: for they "fell into" or just started "playing" into this same relationship: especially the children who were still innocent, not not-guilty, just still within a world of magical imagining: as deliciously imagining the worst as the best – killing their sibling! or crushing insects! or other such delights of the darker presence of themselves: instantly as magical with a smile, a kiss, a hug welcoming everyone, celebrating everything: playing inside or with or around and over this imagining – it was something that just happened as the littlest grandkids came over … yet, ah, the ever "yet" – if Zav and Lil would have had one word to speak about it all it was "yet" – that versatile word, so plastic, so malleable: connect it to so many things: other words, experiences, feelings – meaning, additional, more, not quite, to the contrary: a good word for their imagining … and as they were present to each other it was this "yet" which defined them: the "yet" of what was yet-to-be-imagined, for when they had awoke to this new stage of intimacy, they quickly grasped that it had happened, this intimacy, because they had imagined, but more – another "yet!" – it had happened because they had been imagined: this the intensity of the moment: it was, indeed, embracing – within which, their embrace, they slipped into this intensity and it slipped out and over them: communed them: into communion – the sharpest, most searing, clearly delimited, noted in every conceivable detail was each’s individuality: never so aware had she been of him as not her, and he of her: it was the magnificence of the presence of the other’s singular breathing … ah, they had worked in all their phase to find the common breath: in Courting to be in harmony with the general breathing; in Coupling, with the other’s breath: spousal; in Communing, with that of The Embrace, again, the breath of Ages … now, it is totally other, a different direction – no, wrong words, inept imagery: they were living the Spiraling: the multi-dimensional presence of one another: but most intensely of this other: he as individual in the sense of idiosyncratic: the misshapen tooth, the outright ugly scrunch of her left pinkie toe, the buffoonish eye-brows which puffed and fluffed, the checker-board spots on hands, the ransacking hordes of moles and skin tears: no longer were they applying cosmetics: not of removal or coverage – they just were allowing their bodies to happen, to erupt, to molt: for it was in such a moment of insightful laughter – at each other, at one’s self, that they realized how minutely different each was from the other … it was the glory of decay, the festooning of infirmities, the celebration of diminishment: which was, so they mutually and simultaneously grasped, the Spiraling’s code: reading on their bodies the message of their transit, of the Next Step, not stopping to bother with precise words: "Ascension?" sure, why not?: Throb … but it was intensity, this which is the change if other were to observe and search for a useful descriptor for change: that they were creational, alone and together … she watches him shuffle – for he was dragging a right foot these Octogenarian days – out into the garden, there she observes his play: the conjuring of bugs, the eliciting of beauty, they prestidigitation of joy! full blossom and bloom! – for it was a world he was creating, not "the world" if there ever was such a thing so the thought came to her one day, but "his" world and "our" world … herself, he has watched, sitting together, as she claps and sets into flight a lonesome dove, a messenger of desire, drawn from inside herself: flies an aerial line to a grandson, one in doubt about how to love a woman of his desire: Lilith waves a hand in semi-circle and an opening is created, an astral window, through which the dove flies: into and alights upon the sleeping boy, there transforming into his lover: and they converse, speak with the heart and tongue of Ancient Ones: embrace in their sleep, kiss and depart to wakefulness: upon his face Zav sees the amazed happiness of the dreamer-awakened: the Kiss of Lover Found in his eyes; he departs to find her … it is for them the gift to stop time, turn it back, bend it forward: for they have arrived – arisen, slid into: what are words? – but they are at those mobius points - and they see so many - points where there are such fluxes in time and space such that multi-dimensional presences engage, emerge, flow … back to their Courting days, sharing together the desperateness of Mark: his bold, mad-cap, insanity driven desire to realize his Warrior’s Quest: to capture and control Nothingness – oh, the pain! Zav is Lil’s pain: the Obliterating pain they take and hold: a sharing between them, as tactile as a wooly blanket: flap it about and set it free: floating it into another time and space; yet, remembering Cilla: "Sweet Priscilla!" who was ever all that Mark was, both warriors: meeting so as not to meet, but to joust, contend, battle: nothing as wicked in his arsenal as drinking was in hers: she with the potion, the Elixir of Evil: they watching her pour it into sleeping Mark’s ear: bathing his astral body: mouth, abluting feet, baptizing his head: "Nothing! Nothing! Nothing!" she chants over the sleeping body: a body which never awoke: Ah! how these two move through all that was their plotted life: all the x’s and y’s and z’s: now in and through another dimension: that of intense in
timacy: so intense that it can no longer be plotted: together they begin to imagine their departure, their transit: feel and share in mind and thought and gesture that this world which they have created, both apart and together: this world so apt for words: this world where there was so much ever unresolved: All being metaphor and simile!: so much the clash and clang of the one and the many: of the individual and the collective: of the couple and the Communio … a world of Fire! so they applaud: a delightful fire: seething through their intensity like smoke are all the desires they had ever desired: the thickness of Courting, the wondrous bafflement of the body, itself: that time when no one truly knew limits, nor fullness, nor Bigness, sharing between them the majestic ecstasy of all whom they have Loved and who loved them: bodies akimbo, interlaced, meshed together – so thick, they can hardly breathe! But, Ah! the Fire, the Glorious Flaming which the flesh can be, so they share: into the refining Furnace of Coupling – How else?! – all their years melting down and casting: children, hopes, fears, dreams – casting themselves in hope that they will cast their divineness: casting their flesh together: pounding it, poking it, piercing – Ah! The piercings: she and he in profound amusement: reliving the thousand approaches, the innumerable grapplings, the unspeakable ins and outs: like sponges soaking up the leaping flames, of their drivenness: each, at this sharing, so profoundly amazed at how they had forged – without sharply conscious intent – the purity of the other’s individuality … and here in awe before the revelation, for it came like thunder and stilled the air, the revelation that Mark and Priscilla were parts of their individuality: ("Are!"): awed and shocked: turning in this astral Spiraling and observing how it was Lilith who bore Mark within and Zav so with Cilla: they two souls yet to be fully born, but yet what Lilith and Zav’s birth into Intimacy is all about ….
Intensity: fire in its suckling unto air: not into cold: but into breath, for this is what being human is: from flaming to breeze: so they are imagining: themselves – how can we share this forever-dreaming? – imagining themselves as candles: unblemished beeswax: being wicks, becoming one wick: being imagined as One, but transforming beyond, a true change of substance, a movement into motionlessness, all which only intensity can begin to describe: they are intense each for the other: intensity which is exploding through each, molecule by molecule, atom by atom: and then imploding, pulling down the flaming and intensifying it so that they become airy: not just part of the air, but Air: the substrate of human presence: appearing in air because they are air to all those who love them: air which is the fuel for dreaming: that coupling which links all ages and bodies: all hearts beating; it is this the pump drawing up the water of deep sleeping: slaking the thirst of the ever-journeying dreamer … so, it has been for these two: who now call themselves by every name but in intimacy as Lilith and Zav: these two who are the breath under your words: for it is your awareness, your presence in which is enfolded their presence: your singularity which is the breath of Oneness: here, as intimates so is the presence you share with them created:
Breathe.