The last time that I had seen D.M.Z. was, I think, the
twenty-second of August of this year. The second-to-last time that I saw her
was near the end of the summer in two-thousand and nine.
I have turned this fact over and over like a stone in my
mind for several hours. It is simply difficult for me to accept that four years
had elapsed. Finally, after making the calculations enough times, I snapped. I
yielded to the insanity of obsessing over this minute detail.
It was at that moment that I had what the Zen Buddhists call
a satori. In a fleeting moment of recognition that nonetheless cleared
away all substantial confusion (though by no means sparing me the
responsibility, afterwards, of defending this fact with an ardour to surpass
its own momentariness), I understand why my inner, predominantly unconscious
Buddha mind had set this impossible problem for my ego.
Essentially, what I had done, without knowing it, was that I
asked Dana, within my head: “I last saw you towards the end of the summer of
2013. I had last seen you, prior to that, towards the end of summer
2009. Four years have not passed.”
Were I more quick-witted and confident at the time, I would
have understood the answer to the riddle immediately. This is the answer: Time
is an illusion. It is also relative. What may have been four years in theory
was not four years at all.
My only hope is that it had not been four years for her.
Judging by the fact that she has been even more evasive than when I first met
her, being a thankfully private person, for an extravert, it may have been more
like eight years.
No comments:
Post a Comment