Whoever says You does not have something; he has nothing. But he stands in relation.
*Martin Buber. I and Thou. Trans. Walter Kaufmann..
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Buber's "You" is when we stand in relation with another, not over against, and the other is not an object to us but I-myself. When I share, You share. When You listen, I listen.
He says I-You. Possiby, better I-I. I-I might lead to not appreciating the other is still another. The other is another that is I, another that fulfills "my" I. One is not an escape from two; we live in a world of two. Possibly, it will be otherwise in another world.
We and they are one subject. We have no syntax for this in our dualistic languages based on separation. We are, as I say below, held within one motion of love. This, like the Christian Trinity in the West, in Catholicism, where the Spirit is seen to be the loving between Father and Son. Love is the loving between I and You.
And we do not have "something" but "nothing." There is no possession inside the motion. I cannot have You. Words like "She is my wife" or "He is my friend" make no sense there. In I-It, we can possess It, but we cannot possess You in I-You. Nothing means fullness. Having decreases the fullness.
In the giving-receiving, we cannot give anything apart from I. Whatever I give is I giving I-itself. Strictly speaking, we can never truly give anything outside ourselves when love is giving and is the given.
Rather than possessing, in love, we are possessed by love, we are given by love, we are received by love. Love is the giving and receiving. I is given to You, You to I. Hence, there is no space between I being You and You being I. Loving is the ultimate asceticism, the final simplicity.
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I sat beside her, leaning close. I saw the years in her face, aged and wise, and love. I knew little of her history but knew her.
She could not speak intelligibly. I talked with her - just because someone cannot reply intelligibly does not mean you cannot talk together.
Then, I sang to her. And I hummed music. She soon smiled. I kept hearing inside a message concerning her, "You're not alone." I thanked her for loving everyone she had loved; I do not know them, but they live inside everywhere.
This is enough. For one hour, she was not alone, reminded she is never alone. For an hour, she was cherished, as she is always cherished - I, you, too.
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Yesterday, a woman in recovery work walks up to me at the recovery fair at a prison. She and I talk about how we receive from those we facilitate groups for. My mind goes back to a recent group - I had left feeling so filled with joy and love - those two go together. In giving I, too, was one with the same giving. Giving and receiving, receiving and giving ... not two, one dancing motion. Is it possible we are all, in this form, truly vibrating together?
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See, not only do persons who feel unworthy and unloved need to receive our love, they need to give us the same love. They need to know kindness through being the means of kindness. We come to know ourselves as love through loving.
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We can communicate in so many ways "You're not alone." We do not have to always say something to do so.
Even in a room with no one present, we are not alone. In fact, presence is often more clearly felt when apart from others - most persons just do not sit alone, undistracted, long enough for that to happen. The presence we share is our presence.
*Brian's book, An Ache for Union: Poems on Oneness with God through Love, can be ordered through major online booksellers or the publisher AuthorHouse.
