Through the Looking Glass
One of the trans-oceanic discussions got going last night and, as often happens, at one end or the other, into the wee small hours. We can cover a lot of ground, from the ridiculous to the sublime, the mundane to the mystical.
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—
Of cabbages—and kings—
And why the sea is boiling hot—
And whether pigs have wings."
I often think of Lewis Carroll’s poem, “The Walrus and the Carpenter” when these conversations get going. And “Through the Looking Glass” would be an equally good title for the friendship we share. Though to be fair, the subjects of our discussions are generally weirder and farther reaching than that of the oyster-eating conversationalists thus described.
So last night, along with talk of snowballs and poetry, statistics and magic, parenting and the nature of a bishop’s smile, we spoke of love. It is, in fact, the common thread that binds most of our exchanges together and can be seen weaving its way through the apparent disparities as we talk our way from the gutter to the very gates of heaven.
The friendship itself is one manifestation of love. It was one of those instant moments of recognition when we met that something, somewhere had clicked into place and into purpose. We share many parallels within our lives’ journeys, and we slide down the latter half of life, she with great elegance, I with a less graceful yet gleeful abandon, towards a not dissimilar conclusion and in a shared inner joy.
We have spent very little time together eye to eye, yet heart to heart we have shared so much and we hold up a mirror to each other in which both are reflected as One.
It is the kind of sisterhood of the soul that we are seldom blessed with and is to be treasured as a rare and precious thing.
Yet were you to take a peek into our conversations, you would be as likely to find us talking of steam railways and the seedier side of humanity, laughing over risqué puns and gently poking fun at the cussed stubbornness of certain northerners as you would be to find us speaking of the deeper questions of Life, the Universe and Everything. For they are all one and a common thread of meaning is woven through all.
Last night, amongst the cabbages and kings, we spoke of love and how our relationship with it changes as we grow. We spoke of detachment, in a way that I have only really come to understand recently. Of course, most religious and spiritual traditions and the Mystery schools teach the need for detachment in some form or another, and it can be a frightening thing to even contemplate letting go of the self to that extent. There is an underlying fear of ‘who will I be, if I am not I? If I cannot feel, think, love as myself then who will I become?’
Let’s be honest, no matter how painful loving can be, no matter how joyful or tender, how heart-aching or blissful, it is love in some form or another that fuels all our relationships from our parents to our friends, from our children to our partners. It is behind all the richest experiences of our lives… why would we want to become ‘detached’ from that?
But it became clear to me at some point, that it was I who, through my own fear, was misunderstanding. The detachment is not from love itself, but from its dependencies. When we can lay those dependencies, those needs, on the altar with a clear heart, Love open up to us in a way that we have not understood, perhaps, before.
When we can see a person clearly, ‘warts and all’ as the saying goes, and love them because of who they Are, when we can love without needing them to love us back, without agonising over how they feel, and shedding useless tears when they do not give what we would like.. when we can allow them to be themselves wholly and freely and simply love them anyway, without expectation or trying to mould them to our desire… or when we can look into the mirror of the soul and see our own Self reflected in that greater Love, then perhaps we begin to know what detachment means.
It does not take love away from us, it gives us the freedom to Love with a whole soul.
"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes—and ships—and sealing-wax—
Of cabbages—and kings—
And why the sea is boiling hot—
And whether pigs have wings."
I often think of Lewis Carroll’s poem, “The Walrus and the Carpenter” when these conversations get going. And “Through the Looking Glass” would be an equally good title for the friendship we share. Though to be fair, the subjects of our discussions are generally weirder and farther reaching than that of the oyster-eating conversationalists thus described.
So last night, along with talk of snowballs and poetry, statistics and magic, parenting and the nature of a bishop’s smile, we spoke of love. It is, in fact, the common thread that binds most of our exchanges together and can be seen weaving its way through the apparent disparities as we talk our way from the gutter to the very gates of heaven.
The friendship itself is one manifestation of love. It was one of those instant moments of recognition when we met that something, somewhere had clicked into place and into purpose. We share many parallels within our lives’ journeys, and we slide down the latter half of life, she with great elegance, I with a less graceful yet gleeful abandon, towards a not dissimilar conclusion and in a shared inner joy.
We have spent very little time together eye to eye, yet heart to heart we have shared so much and we hold up a mirror to each other in which both are reflected as One.
It is the kind of sisterhood of the soul that we are seldom blessed with and is to be treasured as a rare and precious thing.
Yet were you to take a peek into our conversations, you would be as likely to find us talking of steam railways and the seedier side of humanity, laughing over risqué puns and gently poking fun at the cussed stubbornness of certain northerners as you would be to find us speaking of the deeper questions of Life, the Universe and Everything. For they are all one and a common thread of meaning is woven through all.
Last night, amongst the cabbages and kings, we spoke of love and how our relationship with it changes as we grow. We spoke of detachment, in a way that I have only really come to understand recently. Of course, most religious and spiritual traditions and the Mystery schools teach the need for detachment in some form or another, and it can be a frightening thing to even contemplate letting go of the self to that extent. There is an underlying fear of ‘who will I be, if I am not I? If I cannot feel, think, love as myself then who will I become?’
Let’s be honest, no matter how painful loving can be, no matter how joyful or tender, how heart-aching or blissful, it is love in some form or another that fuels all our relationships from our parents to our friends, from our children to our partners. It is behind all the richest experiences of our lives… why would we want to become ‘detached’ from that?
But it became clear to me at some point, that it was I who, through my own fear, was misunderstanding. The detachment is not from love itself, but from its dependencies. When we can lay those dependencies, those needs, on the altar with a clear heart, Love open up to us in a way that we have not understood, perhaps, before.
When we can see a person clearly, ‘warts and all’ as the saying goes, and love them because of who they Are, when we can love without needing them to love us back, without agonising over how they feel, and shedding useless tears when they do not give what we would like.. when we can allow them to be themselves wholly and freely and simply love them anyway, without expectation or trying to mould them to our desire… or when we can look into the mirror of the soul and see our own Self reflected in that greater Love, then perhaps we begin to know what detachment means.
It does not take love away from us, it gives us the freedom to Love with a whole soul.
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