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At home in our skin

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I have a deep and rich home with a person whose cells are connected to mine and, in which, the fabric of our life forms a tapestry, a cosmos of colour which is both complicated and simple all at the same time. 

My soul mate, however, is someone quite different and that realisation has both startled and settled me.

I glimpse at the context of her story; in the moments she reveals them to me, and only briefly do I turn around to see her face because, in that moment, there is a perfect beauty in our staying anonymous.  It's those times, simply and deeply, without us ever knowing, the moment of pointed and unexpected truth, when we're more at home together than in our own skin.

The life of spirit is everywhere - in dust waiting for light, in music waiting to be heard, in the sensations of the day waiting to be felt and in our eyes that, together, finally see.

Being spiritual is much more useful and immediate than the books about books would have us think.

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