spleen

and so

Maybe the Quakers are right, and deep inside each of us is an ineffable light that burns without moving, like a pilot light. What we know about the universe might be described as a combination of what our senses tell us, what our minds deduce, and what some deeper part of us discovers through various mysterious processes, intuition, divination, entanglement with some nonprovable but very definite aspect of reality. But even that deeper part isn't exactly the light - it's more like a nebulous self that floats inside the body, that wears the body like a costume.  Maybe the light is the combination of all these things, and maybe it's something else entirely - some fixed connection to the harmony of things. When I think of it, I envision it as a teardrop-shaped thing, pale gold, living inside a little cave in my body. I sense it as my true and complete self, almost entirely hidden from the world because it's so fragile and childlike. It's so immersed in wonder that it almost feels naive - it trusts everything, marvels at everything, and has no inherent knowledge of evil. I love it, I want it like air, and I feel sorry for myself that I can only experience it in little glimpses and find it so hard to share it with others.

But I've been so lucky in this life. When was the last time you lay in bed with someone you really loved, and felt that little cave in you open like a hand? When was the last time you lay there and felt that light in another?