I'm riding in a tram with you, just sitting on the bus staring out the
window enjoying the passing show, watching the girls go by. This
is peoplewatching at its finest. I'm aware you're here but
we're not engaged right now. There's
nothing going on.
And then I see your reflection on a window.
I'm astonished. And I'm astonished that my astonishment comes on
me so suddenly ...
It's hard to tell which comes first: the gasp that utters itself using
my lips as its vehicle, or my world weary heart melting
like a snowflake on a crisp spring morning.
We often say about special human beings that they're creatures of
light. It's hardly likely we'll ever actually see them
comprised of light. It's mostly only a metaphor. But we say they're
creatures of light nonetheless. In other words, saying they're
creatures of light is speaking figuratively and even
conceptually. Yet we're clear about what we're referring to. So
saying a certain human being is a creature of light is
good enough for
When I see your reflection on the window, yes it's you I
see reflected on the window, it's your physical countenance, it's your
face. And then there's the light coming through your reflection on the
window. What I'm given, like some kind of divine gift,
like some kind of profound insight by this natural
phenomenon, by this play of light courtesy of the eternal
indefatigable laws of physics which are neither
metaphorical nor conceptual nor intellectual, is a once in
lifetime vision of you as who and what I know you to really
be, a vision of you as who you really are, as how you
really are, as a creature of light, as a bright creature
of light, as a creature of bright light.
A swathe of white light is upon your head, a pure white aura, a
clear white halo, from where it blends into the clouds above the
tram, a perfect enunciation of the way the entire universe
loves you and blesses you as its ambassador. A tributary of
snowy white cloud comes up around over your right shoulder as heaven
rests its hand on you. You accept it,
allowing it to be there.
There's a flicker of a smile on your lips. You're not smiling
at anything. It's the smile of content. It's your smile of
appreciation of who you are. You know who you
are. This is your moment. When the entire universe reaches out and
baptizes you in the rivers of its love, that (by
definition) is your moment. When it's your moment, you're
entitled to be content. You're entitled to smile.
The reflection on the window captures the private moment between you
and yourself as you're knowing who you are, as you
acknowledge who you are, to yourself, for
yourself. It's the most intimate, the most private moment
between a human being and himself, reflected on the window of the tram
like the Milky Way galaxy is privately inscribed on the
night sky for every human being who's ever walked the face of
to see and wonder and be in awe about.
Your eyes are closed, easily relaxed. You radiate peace, calm, even
ecstasy, bliss. I glance over at you - I must.
Your eyes are open! I angle my gaze so I can see both you and your
reflection at the same time. Your eyes are open, attentive. But in your
reflection they're closed, easily relaxed. It's a fascinating anomaly
which simply serves to enhance the immediacy of the
If I saw anyone else's eyes closed the easily relaxed way your eyes in
your reflection are closed, I'd say they're
praying. Yet when I look closer at your closed eyes, I realize it
doesn't mean you're
Neither does it mean you're praying. When your eyes are
closed, what it means is your eyes are closed and that's
all it means.
It takes me a moment or two to realize what I'm seeing is both the
physical you (eyes open) at the same time as I'm seeing
who you really are (eyes closed easily relaxed). I
break off my spring loaded tendency to
explain the anomaly I'm seeing. Instead I just sit in my
seat here on this tram with you, watching it all, taking it all in,
making it all up,
moved to tears
by it all.