I knew a man named Harry Prochaska whom I believe was the archivist at the Jungian Institute in San Francisco, CA. He was a dharma brother, such a lovely, serene, and profound individual. I'm honoured to say that we meditated in the sweet territory of silence many, many times together.
He told a story, told to him, of two Hopi men. One of the men was participating in a prolonged Kiva ceremony. As I remember the story, the man participating in the Kiva was allowed to come to the surface for a few hours and so his friend travelled many, many miles through rough country to be with him during this time. They sat in the shade of a tree in the hot desert sun, never saying a word to each other the whole time they were together. And when the Kiva celebrant was to return to the ceremony, they parted, his friend returning home.
I am not quite sure why, but I find something so satisfying in this story of togetherness that occurs beyond words. It resonates for me as one of an unusual completeness of being, within one's self and at the same time in connection with someone else. It is a story of communion that is open and of the heart and beyond a need to fill in the spaces, because their hearts were truly with each other regardless of distance. I like to feel that these two men met in a time and place totally shared and yet beyond place and time, immersed in the moment. In that sweet territory of silence, that meditative place, that place of utter innocence and of utter relationship.
I can't say I have had this level of… reciprocate mutuality? Maybe for moments, here and there. I yearn for it though, as if from the outside looking in.