word on the street/word in the stars

image

(from The Americans, season 4, episode 8: The Magic of David Copperfield V: The Statue of Liberty Disappears)

Walking down the street the other night, I heard a woman say to her friend, “But it’s not bad! When you meet someone you like, you’re like ‘Fuck it, I don’t care how I met you. I met you.’”

I’m not sure what “it” was. Maybe online dating. I’ve had bad experiences with online dating that made me feel deeply invisible and so I haven’t done it in a while, but if I meet someone I like who seems to like me too, I can’t imagine I’d be too concerned about how we met. I try to be open to possibility anywhere. I think I have to be, since it’s so rare for me to meet anyone I’m interested in, and practically unheard of for those people to be interested in me. So I don’t want to just outright dismiss anything, or reject it out of hand. I’m actively looking for possibility. I’m waiting for it to manifest. But I also know I’m not going to manufacture a feeling of possibility where I don’t really feel it, or be with someone just to be with someone.

At least I feel like if and when it comes along, I won’t take it for granted. I will appreciate it all the more, knowing that kind of love is not guaranteed. As both Thich Nhat Hanh and my friend Masha have reminded me today, having known suffering can deepen our capacity for joy, if we know how to listen to and understand our suffering and each other’s suffering. Sometimes the things Thich Nhat Hanh says sound almost too simple, but they’re not. They’re just the kinds of truths that we keep complicating ourselves away from, the kinds of truths that could make our lives better if only we could accept that things can be that simple and put that into practice. “Understanding breeds compassion and compassion can heal the suffering.” He often talks about how our presence is the greatest gift we can give someone, and how we can make life real for each other by really being there. What a gift it is to be able to be there for each other, listen to each other and take care of each other.

I was at a friend’s place yesterday. I’m just a few days older than him. His birthday was being celebrated; mine was being acknowledged. I’ve never felt a need for the particular path of marriage and kids, but being there with him and his family, gathered to celebrate his existence, I couldn’t help feeling that something’s gone wrong somewhere along the line, for me to be the age I am and not have that person in my life with whom I feel a deep mutual desire to witness and celebrate, to take care of and be present for. 

So I’m sending a prayer of sorts out into the universe: May the next ten years of my life have rather more mutual visibility, connection, closeness, support and love than the last ten.