Our heat wave continues, but this evening a brisk breeze swept in from the ocean, so that couples returning home from dinner had an extra incentive to wrap their arms around one another, and keep warm in their light clothes, the short-sleeved shirts, tank tops, shorts, cotton skirts, and other summer clothing we've adopted here en masse lately. Driving across town to meet my dinner partner, I saw more half-naked people than anytime since Carnival.
Tonight, I am fixated on three issues: art, language, and how people keep each other warm. I'll work backwards.
Warmth
When I spent my first night with my ex-girlfriend, it was a wet, cold October night and there was no heater in her bedroom. Her bed was very cold. While she was in the bathroom, I laid on her side of the bed to warm it up for her; then I moved over when she came in. My kids sometimes call me "the furnace," because like most males I generate lots of body heat, regardless of the weather. Women, on the other hand, get cold at their extremities -- their ears, feet, hands, bottoms -- though once they warm up in bed, they stay warmer, somehow, than a tall man like me ever can be confident of being as the night goes on and the temperature keeps dropping.
I love having somebody next to me in bed, cradling her head on my shoulder, keeping her warm. Hours later, I turn to her smaller body to reclaim some of that heat, when I am needing it most.
That's what love and partnerships are all about. Giving and taking in proportion to who needs what when and who can give what when. It's all a lovely balance. I have always loved the way a woman feels in my arms, especially when I know I am holding and warming her against the cold. It's all about nature, and our blood temperature (98.6 degrees), size, fat tissue, muscle, bone, and how we fit together.
We are meant to join, like pieces of a puzzle.
Language
I love languages. Having visited 20-25 countries, mostly for work, and often for weeks at a time, I've had the opportunity to move among people speaking Spanish, French, Portugese, German, Italian, Russian, Malay, Indonesian, Cantonese, Mandarin, Japanese, Finnish, Hindi, Urdu, Farsi, Dari, Hebrew, Arabic, Uzbeki, Hazari, Pushtu, Hawaiian, and many other, lesser known languages, including several Native American languages. Sometimes I have spent an entire night "talking" to someone in the languages I know (English, Spanish, Dari) while they spoke back to me in theirs (French, Japanese, Mandarin.)
At times like this, I have often felt that a perfect exchange of meaning occurs. It is not necessary to be able to perfectly comprehend the words someone speaks to you if you can read her eyes, lips, and other facial clues, not to mention how she moves her fingers, hands, arms and, when possible, the rest of her body.
I should say I love the way women "talk" non-verbally. Every gesture is like a window into their essential soul. I recall how J. used to move her left arm and hand when expressing certain ideas or emotions. She presented herself as a kind of tomboy-type, almost masculine, but her gestures on the left side gave away her deeply feminine nature. No man I've met, not even the best imitators, could have duplicated how she made the air move around her slender left arm, hand, and fingers as she expressed certain kinds of emotion-based thoughts, the ones I was most curious about.
One of my favorite languages is Japanese. I know only a few perfunctory phrases, but it is apparent that the Japanese language divides up reality into significantly different chunks than does English. Another favorite is Mandarin, but its tonal aspects make it almost impossible to master at my age.
Art
When I am getting to know someone, the moment I can identify his or her artistic side is when our connection begins to deepen. Make no mistake: I love people of all kinds and temperments. But, when I sense the artist inside another person, I tell them. This is my best instinct, knowing where the art resides inside those I meet.
Tonight, I found an old book (The Penguin Book of Japanese Verse) I had not read in many years. I must have been very young when I marked certain passages, but without second-guessing my younger self, I will reproduce my first choice here, and credit its author:
I would conceal it, yet
In my looks it is shown --
My love, so plain
That men ask of me
'Do you not brood on things?'
-- Taira Kanemori
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