A Memory of Love and Kindness

At Summer Solstice, one afternoon when I showered to avoid the bracing cold of early morning showers on the mountain, I opened the curtain to the shower to see a beautiful and petite woman with long, blonde hair, seated like a mermaid combing her hair. I was awestruck by how she held my gaze. I turned away, embarrased that I was staring, and she said, in a very soft voice, "You look a bit sunkissed." I looked at her again, speechless. There was a long pause, as I remember it, and then I said meekly, "I guess I am a bit." She said, "Let me put some raw coconut oil on you, it is very healing." I smiled shyly, wondering why, and allowed her to touch me. I watched as she dipped her fingers in the liquid coconut oil, and rubbed it into my back and arms. The way her hands glided over my arms felt so sweet, so full of love. So unassuming. I realized, even at the time, that no one has ever touched me that way. No one. There was no lust. Only love.

And now, I remember her, and her soft hands on my arms, and the woman as well who I was embarrased to see naked at Winter Solstice, and whom I had dreams about. So many women I've seen naked, but those two I wanted to kiss and to touch and to hold. It's sweet, I think, that I was embarrased to see them both naked, knowing without really knowing each time, that I desired them; and knowing that I have the unfair privilege of seeing them naked because we are the same sex.

This is a revealation to me. I used to wish I loved women, so that men could not hurt me by not returning my love. Now I realize that I love men and women both in a sexual way. I think women's bodies are so beautiful, and I am sad that I could not say to either of them how much I wanted find a secluded corner and hold them close and kiss them. I think of the anguish I felt at 23, when watching the movie "The Lover", based on my beloved Marguerite Duras' book, and how my eyes were focused not on Tony Leung, but Jane March. And when I saw "When Night is Falling", I loved the women. I think of Greta Garbo's words: "In America, sex is a scandal, in Europe, it's a fact," and I miss those hands covered in coconut oil.