I first experienced it in Texas, in that chapel, that letting-go-ness. After, I thought, how wonderful: how the colors color, how the wind dances, how light the dew smells on the grass. I’ve spent my time recreating the after-experience, so now it’s: how the cold, how the music moves, how the laugh. It’s not the actual experience, that not-I-ness, it can’t be; you can’t live a life that way.
You can see my hesitation, then, when she asks me to go camping with her, to see some stars, she says. I want to see them too, but just see them. Stars can make you forget.
We go to a lake nowhere near a city, where there are trees and crickets and nighted cold. We take a canoe and go out to the middle of the lake. We look up at the stars. Nothing but.
I reach out and take her hand in mine. What are you doing, she asks.
I needed to remember.