Last night I went to my mother’s, who is 95 and lives in Blackstone, to help her get her e-mail working. I am not ashamed to admit this—although I should be—but we had one of the best talks we have ever had. We all talk to our mothers, to be sure, but can we measure the depth of our talk? What ruler can mark the inches of the soul?
I can measure this talk with my mother by all the other talks I have had with her. These were always horizontal talks about external things and events, what we are doing or going to do and how we feel about them. These kind of talks always left me with the sense of something unsaid, something not filled. Maybe there is more.
But last night, our talk was deep, and by deep I mean so full of space that our words seemed to come from the core of our being. We talked about death, about life, about who we are, and about our discoveries in this journey. Time seemed to stop,
The bottom had fallen out of our horizontal conversation, and Being came rushing through the hole like clear spring water. I didn’t want to leave or think about what I wanted to do next. We had what I call a vertical conversation. There was nothing more to be said.
Posted under General Observations
This post was written by ed on July 31, 2006