in a moment of clarity

All the untested virtue
The things I said I'd never do
Least of all to you

She pulls her knees up to her chest quietly so as not to wake him, wrapped up tight in his sleep, and all she can think of are the sit-coms she used to watch. There would always be a pair of characters that everyone wanted to see together; they'd always get into silly misadventures and awkward situations and witty overly scripted banter would pervade it all, (that and about 17 metric tonnes of sexual tension) until the writers finally ran out of ideas and threw them into bed together a few seasons later.

She thinks of the other man, the one who came first -- no, the man in her bed now had come first, the other had simply been in her bed first. She hates to boil it down to those things, as so much love was intwined in this, all in and about and through this.

"I've never wanted anyone or anything more in the world", he had told her. "You fit like no one I've ever known." She wished he wouldn't say those things, it only meant everything was about to get complicated.

They'd been Josh and Donna for too long, right down to the witty, overly scripted banter. (If you like, you can replace Josh and Donna with Ross and Rachel, Niles and Daphne, Joel and Maggie, or Sam and Diane. Not like it's a new concept.) It was only a matter of time.

And just like in each and every of the sit-coms, everything was about to get complicated. That was the only thing about which she was sure.

~~~~

I know he's kind and true
I know that he is good to you
he'll never care for you more than I do

He lies still and listens to her move, and as much as he wants to open his eyes and look at her, to prove to himself that she's really there, that he's really there, that it wasn't just a(nother) dream... he keeps still, half afraid of what might happen if he even moves a muscle, half afraid she'll disappear if he tries to touch her. He waited far too long for this.

Time stretches out and snaps back like a band in the closed room, closed doors and closed windows with the blinds drawn so no one would ever know. He doesn't want to formulate a plan just yet. Oh, they'll need one for sure, because he doesn't understand, and he knows she doesn't understand, so how the hell could anyone else?

"I've never wanted anyone or anything more in the world", he told her. "You fit like no one I've ever known.

He had waited far too long for this, that was the only thing about which he was sure.

~~~~

Time may fly
And dreams may die,
The shaking voice that tells him go
Still thinks he might
He knows he won't

They're down the rabbit hole, and that is the only thing about which they are sure.

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I would like to scream this at him, I think to myself, though I love him and he is good to me and the words don't fit us at all. Janis Joplin's hair-tearing Take Another Little Piece of My Heart. There are many things I wish - that he would see me in my slouchy old PJs. That I would bump into him whilst in a foul mood. "I want to show you, baby, that a woman can be tough". Hellfire and brimstone. I want to unleash the church on him, make friends with his mother. I want to dress like a punkette and pierce my woollen coat with bondage spikes. I want to make him a joke dinner (I can't cook - my banana cake came out purple, neither toffee nor jelly will set for me, etc etc). I want to be ill around him like he's been ill around me.

:
:
I am trying to drive him away. I'd wish us into the torrent of a storm, into the fire at the heart of a tsunami, if I was a strong nasty fae. I simply can't bear my feelings - my heart nearly full, but not with love; my skin twittering, but not with lust; our twosome neither forever nor a brief night. All or nothing, I realise, as my destructive fantasies pause.

Can one have the same epiphany over and over again?
is it one of those things you see/experience until you learn what's intended?

"The way you feel about yourself, your experiences, your actions, your reactions to loved ones -- it all helps reflect your own mortality."

Two different people have told me that they love me. (at separate times, in different relationships) They've both said that they love me, not because I'm a male or female but because I'm me. In the sense that my sex didn't matter.

I'm not exactly sure what it means but I know it means something. Something about me as a person.

Does anyone out there have any ideas?

"The karma of relationships is the hardest karma ever!" ~Ram Dass

Why is it that, in such an instance we separate from those we care deeply about, even love, on terms out of our grasp... that we say we'll never go back (I mean, come on, we got hurt pretty badly), and then, as soon as the object of our affection and desire needs us again... maybe not for the same circumstance, maybe for a shoulder to lean on, an ear to lend, whatever... we're right back there again?

We vow strongly never to submit ourselves to them again... they are the past, we've moved on, we're better, they don't know what they're missing, etc. etc.

Why does love make someone we would normally consider a general fuckup... a proverbial god (or goddess)?

Human emotions fuck with your head. *epiphany*

Die, die to the old man! In with the new!
Tear down these rotted, hulking stones! We need
refurbished marble, statuesque milieu.

The old man whimpers; man, a running bleed
but flowing nowhere and for nothing. One
can only wonder why the old man proceeds

so slowly to the bosom of death. Run,
damn you, man, run to that death! The reward
is not the hereafter, but being one.

The new man knows this; in fact, it's his sword.
His mouth reveals the sheath of wisdom. He
entices with silence and the absurd.

The final man is Phoenix, plume aflame:
he lays bare vision no dead man can claim.

I came across a very close approximation of my philosophical stance concerning the mind tonight. It was unbelievable to find such a resonant opinion out there in the ether. My gnostic psyche could only smile.

Modern analytic philosophy (with a few exceptions) doesn�t take dualism seriously, but it does offer a set of other proposals with which to either explain the link between the mental and the physical, or else make the problem go away by attempting to show that there is no real problem � that the only problem is that we are using words incorrectly, asking nonsensical or meaningless questions, or some variation of these ideas. The philosopher Colin McGinn has parsed the current set of proposed answers into four types, which he calls the DIME shape � "D" for "domestication," the claim that consciousness is really no big deal, that a sufficient understanding of neurophysiology (or perhaps computer science) will explain it, much as digestion and other physiological processes have been explained; "I" for "irreducibility," the idea that consciousness is just a basic feature of reality, like space and time, and can�t be explained in terms of anything simpler; "M" for mysticism, the idea that consciousness is literal magic (an idea McGinn and in fact all analytic philosophers reject almost by definition, but one which I don�t believe can be tossed aside so easily), and finally "E," for "elimination," which is the claim that consciousness does not actually exist, so there isn�t any problem to be addressed. This last position may strike readers as incredible, and they may be excused if they believe that no one could possibly take it seriously, but, in fact, it is currently one of the most popular views in philosophy of mind � a fact which demonstrates just how badly modern philosophy of mind, in its desperate desire to emulate science, has gone astray.

[...] The core of the mind-body problem is that there seems to be an unbridgeable gap between the psychological and the physical. We cannot comprehend how causality might leap across this gap. Not only do we not understand the nature of the psychophysical link, we do not even know what such an answer would look like � something which may be true of philosophical problems generally. Theories that substitute behavior for consciousness, explain behavior, and then claim to have explained consciousness (e.g., Dennett�s) abound, but they do us no good when it comes to unraveling the deep mystery of the mind-body problem. Explaining behavior is not philosophically problematic. It may be difficult indeed to explain the complex behavior exhibited by human beings, but we can see, in principle, what such an explanation would consist in. But such an explanation, however complete, would not in any way clarify the nature of the psychophysical link. Behavior is not experience.

I can't wait to wade into the recommended works.