Illustration: Maria Nua

Intimacy

Between two lovers, silence moves like a silky animal through lush emerald of a purring jungle. How can silence be so pregnant with colours, nuances, shades, waves and depth when two bodies paint it in the air! There, in between meanings, we find our true rest. Souls melting, creating streams of hearty lava, majestic mass of totality, gently penetrating the illusion we so surely stand on. I gravitate towards that space in slow motion, I crave to dive into intimacy, oneness guiding where gods reside.

Only sometimes, and mostly lovers, can stay still and listen to the same song humming in the depths of our sacred bodies. Only romance can invite us in, we need the promise of a dream to dare. We need to be seduced to remember this exquisite entrance we so ached for.

Be still, my love, can you hear how deep this silence goes, reaches starry indigo and back, nibbling with its mellow lips every inch of our bodies? Tell me which animal howls in you, tell me. We shout secret whispers over canyon, chuckle out of recognition, and in parallel, skydive into the master piece.

Forget everything you know about making love. Your innocence was pushed into shame, greed and fear. Your joy prays for a welcome back. Release grip on your hiding games, travel patiently to the last station of truth, your bag packed with magician’s clothes.

I am here and I am naked, my words reaching for your soul, gently loving every inch of you. Reach out and pronounce your fear, I am right here, caressing your hair, telling you how you always, always had already arrived, shining in the grace of pure liquid gold. Intimacy is, here, now, with us. I feel your gaze and when I latch on to you, you stay. Oh, how much we tremble.

I am inviting you into our universe, you and me. Imagine this, we are here, in this room together. What is this?

Break your illusion before you become divine silence again, for the sake of your joy. Just joy, enjoyment of this dear life. Go, fulfill this container so delicate, so inviting. Create a circus! Carve a wooden horse, buy ribbons in every colour, paint a flag, draw your love in the sand. You are going back to remembrance. You are born, you die, every day.

Sometimes, we are so scared that we deny every possibility. And yet, possibility follows us to even our deepest sleep.

We struggle and think pleasure is in the end, not in the beginning. Pleasure has been made so heavy, such a burden. It’s simple. Pleasure is not for you: it is you! This is not a serious business, this thing called being a human. Think about laughing, crying, going crazy and wild. Make faces. Show your tongue. Make an outrageous song, let the mist of the world wash your innocent body.

If you are a quiet man, think about becoming a lion king, roar, and really, you become that. Let the woman be your lioness and mate until the rise of sun, have a little giggle, just the two of you, then have mutual stroke of savage hairs. Lick each other’s sweaty faces and feel how unimportant it is to know.

You can create anything into this word, it is as simple as that. Once you’re willing to let go of shallows, the world of magic will start its delicious play. You are no longer a random occurrence in chaos but fresh condensation of molecules in a powerful stream, a force of hope.

We become intimate by greeting everyone as an endlessly changing, moving, shaking, vibrant whirl of freedom. How do you become intimate with movement? Real intimacy with life will wash the illusion of permanence and defined form away. You will be free, simplicity introduces itself laughing with a wobbly buddha belly. You lie in your bed, looking at the rays of sun on white cotton, and suddenly, remember.

Imagine your loved one as a view from a moving train, how panorama of life flicks before your eyes: sugar coated mountains, fields of lavender, cloud tickling skyscrapers, zebras on savannah, men with important briefcases, pink toddlers with their dapper mums, half lit neon lights, lanky teenager boys with skateboards. They are all your beloved. This is what you have when you love someone. You fall in love and meet gods over a cup of slow morning coffee.

How do you capture a moving picture? There’s no other way to love, nothing is yours to keep. Try to close love in a box and spend your life as a gatekeeper of emptiness. How do you become intimate with changing views, how do you let life carry you home?

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.