Communion? What sort of sacrament is that?

I’m feeling somewhat melodramatic today. I hate days like this - they’re a pain in the proverbial keister. Strangers can say things that flatten me. One perfect stranger brought me to tears. That’s a lie - he didn’t do it, I did, but I used the words to twist my guts into a churning hurricane of garbage and filth. (If only the filth were the filthy stuff I *really* like instead of this emotional tornado…and now I’ve been reduced to using weather analogies. I’ve fallen hard.)

I’ve had a few conversations lately that are out of my usual shallow end. In fact, I’ve felt rather like drowning some of the stuff has been a little overwhelming. Of course it has to do with relationships (is it *that* obvious that I’m preoccupied with the concept as of late?). My darling friend R has been a source of comfort and a great sounding board when it comes to the dynamic of letting someone close enough to witness vulnerabilities. He’s helped me refine my ideas of what I want, or need rather, or maybe it’s a combination of both…

A guy came in the gallery this afternoon who I struck up a conversation with - one of those conversations that doesn't often happen with random strangers, but is the kind that you need in order to remind yourself of certain things you want, value, need, ache for. I can never trace the path back to where the conversation started or how certain things came up, but I think I needed to hear and to articulate some of the things that were said. He accused me of being a man eater with a big wall - it was a backhanded compliment, but I had to laugh and accept it for what it was. I told him of course I had a wall, but that he wasn't willing to see that there was a door in the wall that allowed people to knock, get the key, and walk right through without having to try to scale the wall or break it down. In a way, I think that's how most people are: they have doors that they give the *right* people keys to, that they invite in, and we feel frustrated or dismissed or angry because we aren't invited to walk through their door.

We talked about his fiancée. He's known her for 30 years, they grew up together, and finally they're going to tie the knot. He said she knew him too well, that she knew things about him that he wished she didn't know about him and he was scared that she knew too much. I thought that was an amazing thing to say - made me wonder, aloud of course, about what it is in the nature of men to not want to be too exposed or vulnerable. One of my best friends is a guy (old fart, feels like an older brother, but I trust him implicitly) who has shared a similar sentiment about not wanting to expose himself too much to anyone, that he didn't want to share his core with anyone, even his wife (of 22 years). All I could think was that there was something so incredible about seeing someone's core, about being trusted enough to witness someone at their rawest...not to touch it, that's verboten, but to see it... But the point of this is that I arrived at a conclusion (I do my best thinking while talking, I guess it forces me to refine my thoughts in order to articulate them to my satisfaction, it's the bane of my existence): the core is that *primal* thing you were talking about...and a woman wants to see a man's core and I think he wants to see hers as well. I called it communion. And I issued the verdict that ultimately, we all ache for communion.

That was my deep thought for the day.

Now I want a nap.