life, love and friends

This post is dated 17 Sept 2006. It was on an old blog which I got rid of, but I liked this entry so I kept it in a notepad file.

Sometimes I feel like I have moments of 'otherworldliness', where I don't feel attached to anybody or anything, and I feel 'abstract', so to speak. The feeling of detachment is hard to describe, but it’s a time where I feel at peace with myself. Maybe it's got something to do with the fact that I'm just feeling a little exhausted at the moment. I tend to be peaceful and calmly reflective when I'm tired.

Last night I went out to the city with a friend. We had dinner at Wagamama's on King St Wharf - the food was nice, but I wasn't that hungry so I couldn't finish my meal. I don't eat big meals - I eat little and often. 'Grazing', if you like. So when I go out to dinner, I get full pretty quickly. But funnily enough, there's always some space for dessert.

We went to Gelatissimo's for some gelato, and then we went for a drive to a special spot near Bronte beach. I say it was special because it was my friend's thinking spot, a place where he could escape the rest of the world and let his troubles go. And he was sharing it with me.

It took a while for my eyes to adjust from the brightly lit streets to the unlit darkness of the cliff, but even before I could see it all, I felt complete. (The purity of the natural environment - it always hits me hard and I love it).
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It was beautiful.

To be able to sit there on the edge of a cliff and feel the calm of the sea,
to listen to the waves gently breaking against the rocks down below;
to look out to the boundless horizon and feel my soul sigh with peace and fulfillment.

To look up to the sky,
see the stars,
and sense the universe;
to be wrapped up in its cosmic infinity.

To be spiritually refreshed in a moment,
to have no wants,
no needs,
no desires;
to know that nothing in the world could possibly hurt me now.

And if my life had ended at that point in time
I would have died a peaceful death,
with the light of the stars in my eyes,
the song of the sea in my heart,
and the blood of the universe in my veins.

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I don’t remember when we actually got there (maybe 10pm?), but we were there until almost midnight, talking, gossiping, and learning from each other as we usually do. It was an evening to cherish. And the best part about it was that I was sharing an awesome experience with a friend and not a lover. Because it would have been such a different evening if I had done the same kind of trip with my boyfriend. Not that that would have been a bad thing, but the love I feel towards the friends who mean a lot to me, feels to me like a wholesome love.. hard to explain, easy to interpret the wrong way. So pretend you didn't read that last sentence.

I could have stayed until dawn, were it not for the fact that it was quite cold (I was wearing shorts and a thin jacket) and I had to get home (protective parents). I would say that I’d love to do it again, to be in the city on a Saturday night (it’s always such an exciting event for me) and then to visit a quiet spot by the sea – but for some reason I have no current desire to repeat the experience. It’s a very unusual reaction for me. I have no way of explaining it. I think it’s because last night feels (to me) so out of place with the normalcy and routine of daily life. It was an unexpected escape from my usual world. And I’m afraid that if I experience it too often, the blissful retreat from my life, I’ll become dissatisfied with my day to day living, and become grumpy and glum and too addicted to unadulterated freedom.

But it’s experiences like that which make me question my relationships. I could give all my love to the world quite easily; I feel as though my soul and spirit belong to the universe – how could I possibly give myself freely to one person? The universe has no boundaries, it has no expectations of me; but a human love is restrictive – it is filled with needs and desires, it asks things of you, and it is not easy.

I guess that’s a bit narrow-minded and perhaps hypocritical of me to say that. I’m in a relationship at the moment, and I’m enjoying it very much.