Story 12 - Shopping for Glass
When the shop owner came back I gave him four thousand and embraced Heather and told her that she should choose one of them as my wedding gift for her and Ross. I had the feeling that she understood what this implied. We were both in tears after this embrace.
During the interval of our embrace the sculptures were being packed into ready made boxes lined with soft synthetic foam.
We left the store arm in arm, our faces wet with tears, my mind half in a daze, drunken with emotions. The music that we had heard in the store was still with me as we walked away. And what music it was! Music for the soul -
from the Meditation from Tahis.
Whenever our hearts met a deep love emerged that was carried by a thirst for the beauty of life that was gradually becoming satisfied again, a flow of love from heart to heart, that was once cruelly blocked by an impasse that appeared greater than either of us. Now, just to have the privilege to experience that flow of love again, now and then, to feel the bright sparkle of its moments, was coming to light as a greater treasure than any king might have possessed, and
with it came this promise in her smile that this would continue no matter what the circumstance would be that would arise. I had no need to ask for more.
In the end it was her smile that interrupted my thoughts. What made her so beautiful was not her body wrapped in her fanciful yellow clothes. A person who loves deeply, from the deepest recesses of the heart, is always beautiful. That was most certainly true for her.
Heather unpacked her glass sculpture at the restaurant by the lagoon where we dined. She showed it to Ross, then embraced him for a long time. There was a similar grand unpacking underway everywhere at our table; a sculpture for Ushi and Steve, one for Sylvia, and one for Tony. Heather glanced at me now and then as she unpacked hers,
which she had chosen herself with that special sparkle in her eye that I had cherished from the day we first met. Our thoughts for each other had never been empty, our feelings never shallow. They had roots, nourished by an overflowing loveliness, a delight rooted in our soul and its living. For me, the world was forever transformed by the riches of her touch, and transformed anew whenever our hearts met or new love entered the scene. Each glance brought its own renewal of that love. That's what made her so precious, and me so rich for being touched by her love.
Perhaps this deeply drawn feeling of love was nothing more than an inwards reflection of the romantic atmosphere of Venice that now brought the sparkling moments of our love to the surface. Or maybe it was the gnawing thought that time was running out for us all, that all which was beautifully human in the world
could soon be lost, which produced this effect. Maybe it was a reflection of our growing openness that allowed us to experience whatever had been blocked before. Well, whatever the reason might have been, the end result was, that we enveloped one another in love with an intensity that made no sense in a conventional way, and had no limits that I could see.
"Did you ever see a young man running," I asked Sylvia, "did you see him jumping through the park, handing a flower to an old lady. That boy is in love. I looked at her sculpture, at her, at Ushi, at Sylvia, Steve, Tony, and Ross; the feeling I felt unfolding between us
all included every one in the same way.
"Why is this day so wonderful?" I asked some time later. "Is it this place? Is it our mission? Is it the freedom we have between us? Or is it the hope we all share and work for?"
Steve answered and smiled, "We bring to each other the gift of love. Here the magic begins. People who love have a beautiful soul. That alone makes them beautiful. Ones expression and ones spirit always matches the essence of the
Soul that is our humanity. That is why we are surrounded by such beauty, as we all embrace
the essence of it."