Valentine's Day -- My Date's Heartbeat

Note: It's Valentine's Day, so we're celebrating LOVE and all the accoutrements that go with it, including, between the lines, a dash of sex. It's great to "couple," however you do it, whether together in the flesh or in some other sense. I've had a few dates lately. She and I went out for our Valentine's Day date last night, to avoid the rush -- the crush of people -- on Valentine's Day itself.

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Remember a few weeks ago I said I had a couple dates? Well, guess what: It's true, lightning can strike in the same spot twice! We had another one.

The difference between this date and the others is that we know each other so much better. We have exchanged calls, texts, and Facebook statuses. I'm pretty well up to snuff on her love of funny cat videos and miniature horses. I appreciate the psychology behind liking miniature horses.

This time, again, we came together over dinner, for Valentine's Day. I did the traditional thing, which is paying for her meal. No dutch treat for me. I'm old-fashioned like that. My dad probably did it before he and mom were married, even though, as I understand it, he was something of a pauper.

Later, without getting into too much of the nitty-gritty details, I found myself in a position of resting my head on her chest, just under her chin. By resting my head, I mean sideways, definitely not my face directly buried in her chest. It was a touching moment, right out of the old song, "Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child." Which, after all, I am.

And she seemed comfortable with it. I was comfortable. It gave me a lot to think about, as you can imagine, about proximity and what it could all lead to. Of which, speaking of comfort, I'm not comfortable saying too much.

Then I started thinking, "I can hear her heartbeat." Thumpa-thumpa -- thumpa-thumpa, etc. It really did something to my thought processes, giving me the thought, "Good grief, this is a living other ... blood is flowing ... each cell is being nourished," and other things along those lines.

Then the more I thought the sillier I felt. Of course her heart's beating! There's nothing wrong with that, is there? It's just you don't hear it that often. I kept toying with the idea. She might've thought I was lingering a bit too long, but what could I do, being a motherless child and all? Who knows her secret thoughts, probably something about nurturing and me being clingy?

My silly thoughts went something like this: Hearts beating, hasn't it been done to death? All these years the same thing, we haven't risen above it. Even though they've done marvelous things with artificial hearts, they still haven't got one to sound as lifelike as this, I presume. I keyed in on how regular it was. She wasn't varying much from the same old thumpa-thumpa you think of as the heartbeat's basic stereotype. How exciting is it having me attached to her breasts, in that sideways manner of speaking? Obviously not too exciting... she had the same beat-beat regularity...

Continuing this lovely reverie, I noted to myself, Aren't heartbeats these days almost passé? We've denied so long that we're living things -- not willing to use a bathroom if another human soul is within 50 feet -- both because of the well-known reluctance to pass waste in public as well as the fear of being sexually attacked by truck drivers in the area -- why, at the end of it all, is a heartbeat allowable?

This woman is mortal! I exclaimed with my inner silent voice. Not the goddess I imagined. Someday, although God forbid, her heart will be stilled. And if we proceed down this path, I might be there, whether it's 10 years or 30 years later, when it happens. What will I do? What should I do? CPR? How am I to know if this mortal machine can be repaired either by medicine or mechanic?

I felt my own heartbeat quicken its pace, making me no more innocent than she. When a thought like that hits you -- you know as well as I -- it's a real bastard to shake.

I'm Smelling Something Bad -- That's Good!

I'd said before that I think I have olfactory hallucinations.

The tricky thing about it is I've never been officially diagnosed, so it's all anecdotal, what I tell myself and suspect. The thing about senses is that you have nowhere objective to stand from which to judge them. I suppose if you had instrumentation and science you could come to better conclusions. But if I was going to do that, I'd go to the doctor. So far, I prefer going it alone, because, for the most part, I don't mind them.

When I first noticed this -- and there's links above with links within some of those posts if you want to see what I've written before -- I thought it was all objective. To the point that I was scrubbing floors and walls to get rid of bacteria. But because others in the environment weren't smelling anything, and because it all went away after a while, which bacteria wouldn't be likely to do, and because I discovered online that olfactory hallucinations is an actual thing, I quit scrubbing, etc.

Usually everything is perfectly OK. Like right now, everything is more or less perfectly OK. I'm not smelling anything extremely vile or disagreeable. And when I do, frankly, it doesn't bother me that much. Nothing really lingers, not like a few years ago.

It's a big jump from really worrying about it a few years ago to embracing it now. Maybe there's some link, I hope so, between olfactory hallucinations and the creative process, and happiness, or even the more spiritual dimensions of life. My guess is that whatever you embrace you can use for personal profit. If you think it, you can live it. Which is what I'm trying to do. I read a good verse today:

The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. (Song of Solomon 2:13)

Of course I read that in the most mystical sense presently possible for me.

Think about this, if you're evaluating all the nuances of your experience, and the nuances are varied with hidden dimensions, it really gives you something to think about. This touches that and everything gets affected along the way. It does happen to be my belief that there are stranger dimensions of reality than we typically see, so anything to open that up seems pretty much a plus. The trouble is, you might just be smelling rotten garbage...

If you are just smelling rotten garbage, it only takes a few seconds to get up and objectively make that determination. And anyway, in my case at least, there's nothing quite that profound about what I smell. I don't think I'm so far from objective reality in the nose/brain that I can't trust it.

Still, it's definitely good to test, which is true for all of life. If you're testing, experimenting with this or that dimension of reality, what better way to appreciate and enjoy it? I'm thinking maybe too much conscious reflection means you spoil the experience, since at some point pure experience is more desirable. But I'll cross that glassy sea if I ever get to it.

Right now, I keep wondering, What's that I smell? There's a hint of patchouli (I have some by my computer at home), a hint of some exotic vapor in another part of the building, a touch of something industrial when I wander around, something pleasant on my fingers, and who knows what all they've touched. I'd rather smell them than lick them, so at least this isn't gustatory hallucinations!

The way it stands now, if I'm smelling something, that's good! If you're spiritually stifled, breathe! Smell more stuff!