WHAT IT ISN'T

wrapped in who we are, questions arise --

what to remove, what to add

   so we can be intimate?

where is our energy, our intention

   when we engage with one another?

how do we believe

   what we're feeling is true?

is this a feeling that's shared

   or merely exploited?

what exactly is this thing called intimacy?

   is it merely what becomes of the comfort of friendly engagement 

     when enough time gives rise to a surface bloom of the agreeably cozy?

   is it sharing our superficial then deeper secrets with one another in measured steps?

   is it slowly dissolving the boundaries of personal space as one is allowed closer?

   is it in prime evidence when removing our clothes for someone else?

   is it allowing the other to access parts of oneself

     otherwise shyly reserved, stoically hidden, vigilantly defended?

   is it allowing the other to see the real us?

     and what portion of that "real us" is shown?

     have we even shown this "real us" to ourselves?

     how can we be sure we're showing what we think we're showing?

     how are we sure what we're showing is being seen the way intended? 

to be unsure is to be unguarded, exposed, susceptible to who knows what.   

is there no intimacy without vulnerability?

is there no vulnerability without making mistakes?

are these to be our mistakes or simply experiences

   hampered by our lack of an omniscience

we shouldn't expect of ourselves?

   even if we don't blame ourselves for our leaps 

into pain out of naive vulnerability,

   nevertheless, there is still the pain.

lost in feeling, how can we ever know

   how many stages and levels there are

  on the way to true intimacy?

   maybe there are no stages at all.

   perhaps intimacy either exists or not

   in an alchemical, magical, archetypal way

   and you'll only be fooled by talk of stages,

   fooled into successive approximation away from the truth,

   fooled down the road of being taken for the fool,

   open to being used, a road leading only to more pain.

it has been said in song -- they tell you not to sleep in a strange place

   or sleep with somebody else, but either way is OK,

   you wake up with yourself --

   on the surface this is quite easy to sing,

   it can even sound like an affirmation, but the 

devil-in-the-details catch is,

   the self you wake up to 

   can't help but be changed by the encounter

   and once seen, the fall from Eden,

   the fall onto forbidden fruit,

   the fall into greater knowledge

   can't be unseen, and the sight of it can't help but change us,

   from then on changing who we are when we approach

   new vulnerabilities, new possibilities of intimacy.

whatever true intimacy is,

it isn't explored behind the veil of who we think we are

it isn't expressed behind the veil of what we wish to have

it isn't exchanged behind the veil of engendering, self-serving behaviors 

it isn't exalted behind the veil of simple carnal desire,

intimacy is something more ineffable, more revealing,

more consuming in a boundary-dissolving way,

and once dissolved, isn't thought of that way.

and so, here we are,

wrapped in the who we are, 

and the question still arises --

what to remove, what to add

   so we can be intimate?

first we must ask ourselves

but only ask if we answer with the truth --

is intimacy really what we're after

or is it a means to an ends?

yes, we spend accumulated time with one another,

we invest our energy and awareness and consideration,

we smile, we are kind to one another,

we hug, we kiss, then embrace,

eventually, buoyed by the flow of the progression 

of the close and familiar,

in due course we take each other's bodies in full,

we release a cascade of pent-up desire onto each other,

we extract peak pleasure and the facsimile of completeness

we are driven to seek,

in turn we ignore how fleeting, how ephemeral both of those are.

it is too easy in the moment of overwhelm

to content ourselves that this must be intimacy.

but in reality, the true portal into intimacy rarely opens,

and hardly ever due to the way we approach it.

what's the chance we're as yet

still kissing with veils on?

is it all merely lip service to the notion of the intimate,

a convenient excuse to gain access to the other

while ginning up some dispensation for our conscience?

the religious intention of a veil 

is to cover a part of the head or face 

as an object of some significance.

the questions then becomes,

what exactly is this special significance

and why do we feel a need to hide such a significance

from all except the rare one we deem intimate?

why place a private, personal, specially restricted nature on it?

is it because we don't dare risk such a precious thing with just anyone? 

or can it be we gain some advantage in concealment,

in hiding our cards, so to speak?

what exactly is so precious, anyway?

what makes it precious?

do we become a bit like Gollum chasing the precious one ring to rule them all,

an object external from us that wields a power we can't resist?

what power is this, this power of intimacy?

 is it simply the most profound power over others

to get them to open up to us -- for good or bad?

if so, then intimacy by itself is neither inherently a plus or minus
but can be used as both a pathway to the divine
and just as easily a tool of the predator.

maybe love is a pathway to the divine

and lovemaking a means to embody this cherished yearning,

but it's not that simple, is it?

our animal and spiritual natures wrestle

in the moment of passion and what appears as love

may not be as noble as some exulted yearning we whisper to ourselves.

to not risk is to give up the possibility of finding true intimacy.

and yet, to risk intimacy is to experience the unexpected,

for the experience we get is always more or less somehow

because by necessity it involves someone else

and that other will always have their own veil,

their own mix of intentions and drives,

their own blend of wrestling natures.

it's an old tale told with passion,

the terrible nexus of our deepest joys and most bitter tears,

it's the realm of intimacy, the mystifying.

when it's genuine there is no way to approach it with strategy,

it magically shines forth when we're in its presence
and the i's becomes we
then the we is subsumed 
into the one beyond us.

it's our transformation without explanation or method.
in all of it 
perhaps we need to take a step back
to see how the inception of true intimacy
occurs at the point we become 
truly intimate with ourselves,
and this is the most difficult aspect of all,
but it's critical and must precede 
any vulnerable engagement with another.
mostly we attempt the latter without the former
and in denying our honest engagement with ourself first
guarantee something less than intimacy with another.
this may be the crux at the heart of true intimacy.

everything else is simply talk

about what it isn't.