Kiss

I have come to believe that the most real world is seen through the eyes of lovers. They possess the ability to see the spiritual in the ordinary and every day. It seems a better balance than a life of separateness.

I have read that: “The infatuated vision of lovers is like the holy vision of saints.”

Imagine!

We live in an age where everything is staged, but you can’t fake this, I can’t fake this. I want to live with that kind of magical vision. Of course everything I want these days is about becoming some sort of super hero. Last week I wanted to be Superman. He appeared ordinary, but could save the world…and then just fly away because he didn't really belong on earth anyway. This week….I want more.

You see, I have been thinking, what would happen if you knew the last kiss, for whatever reason, WAS the last kiss? Would you change your mind in the moment? Would you redirect your emotion to the purity of loving? I think I would linger longer, breathing the moment softly in. Record the touch of your mouth in my mind. 

When my father passed away, my Mom, in her almost childlike innocence, believed if she just kissed and hugged him enough he would wake up. He would start breathing again. The blood he lie in did not hold water to 61 years of love. I want THAT! I want to genuinely believe my love has the power to wake you up. 

In that moment the truth of love itself is revealed. It is both subject to time, and timeless. My mother says her lifelong marriage was so successful because they did it all together. It was a life seen entirely through the eyes of a lover, and in it she took pure advantage of Dad’s lips.

Each day she kissed him when he napped or stole a kiss before she went out. We could be late but she always had to run and get kisses before leaving. She left notes, they danced in the kitchen and spoke of missing each other when times were busy. She even unabashedly tells a story of her neighbor asking if they wouldn't mind closing their living room curtains, what they saw was making them blush. My parents lived a simple life, but who needs more really? Each night they slept curled together. I know this because I marveled at the intimacy many times as I passed their room.   

In the end, I stood with my father during his cremation. I stood in honor of the man he was. He was never alone and shouldn't be in this moment. I kissed his head for all the kisses that would be missed. I stood to make sure his passage across the River Styx lead him properly to the Elysium Fields, or whatever goes on in your mind as you witness something so rarely observed. My mother wanted to come but waited on a cozy sofa with the funeral director. When I finally came to join her she was recanting stories of how they met with a huge smile. When she saw me the light in her eyes shifted. Wait! Now just wait now, STOP! I just need one more kiss. Just ONE more!”…….. I looked in her frantic eyes and wondered about wanting to touch your mouth to someone’s skin so badly it does not matter the state or condition of the moment. My eyes filled with tears as I leaned in and kissed her softly on the cheek and whispered, “Daddy said to give this one to you.”

It’s amazing how intimate yet wildly powerful a kiss can be. A kiss…. connection, and often the last most intimate thing we can do. When all else falls away we can still touch lips and caress hearts through the softness of our mouths. It can change the coarse of your life, and in many cases can breathe us back to life. It is a super power. The only one I now care to possess. I want to manipulate death with love. If you really believe you can, you will never be powerless. In an unbelievably impersonal world imagine what you can do with just. one. KISS...