The one that gives you life

from The Goodness of Things

In Barcelona you could be forgiven for mistaking ecstasy for love and dark rooms for midnight. You could not be faulted for thinking that the club’s pulsing beat is the same rhythm that pumps your heart, the same one that gives you life.

I know it was romantic because I was there. I remember how deep love feels when your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, how the space between the worlds can open like a chasm stretching, yawning, and expanding, until the moments of your life are impossible to distinguish from the dreaming.

We were seekers then too. Even strung out as we were on the beach in the rising sun. It felt then like a holy mission, to be guided by this great and insatiable lust. We were thirsty for some essence of life that lived below the one we could see, a river beneath the ground that rushed with something magnetic, something pure and rich and different, from days of work and evenings of t.v.

But we were lost and searching in Barcelona, and we could only see as far as we could see

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