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editing, return soon, thanks
Peaceful Abiding
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May 22, 2026, to a spiritual companion -
It has been so long a time, if ever, I felt so drawn into a spirit-space of sharing. Thank you!
These times are possible. Such intimacy is a potential in us. These times, two people embody a single presence of bliss and love, mirroring to each other a single Presence. They may happen rarely, but they can happen. The afterglow goes with us, the memory remains sacramental.
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Relationships are like temples or other worship buildings. These have set-apart spaces from outside, or just inside the entrance, to inside. These are designed to inspire a mood for worship.
When I then speak of "intimacy" or "closeness," there is no single degree. In temple terms, one can be as close as the holy of holies, the innermost, where in Hebrew history only the high priest could enter and once yearly, or outside the temple precincts altogether.
Again, in the Hebrew tradition, there was the outside, the inner court, or holy place, and the inner sanctum, or holy of holies. The latter is often referred to as the most holy place.
The movement in such buildings is from distance to closeness. And the closer one gets to the innermost, the more prepared one must be to be there. These structures mirror the potentials in our relationships with the Sacred, others, and ourselves.
In a desacralized society, such as secularized, materialistic ones, most persons are outside the precincts, meaning relationships are egocentric. The Sacred remains an object to them with which they are in a transactional relationship, and evokes little, if any, awe or transformation of consciousness. They go in and out, the same. This egocentricity includes a strong avoidance of emotional and spiritual closeness.
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Another way I have written here of progressing toward intimacy is follows -
(1) Acquaintance
(2) Friendliness
(3) Friendship
(4) Communion
(5) Oneness
Some pointers -
(1) Friendliness is a bridge between acquaintance and friendship. Communion is a bridge between personal and transpersonal.
(2) When I speak of closeness below, I mean communion or union or both is shared together.
(3) The phases can blend together, as one transitions from one degree of closeness to another.
(4) As to the fluidity, an example, one can enjoy friendship, communion, and oneness with the same person.
(5) These categories apply, as well, to our relationship with the Sacred.
(6) With each transition, new challenges present, as each is like learning to live in a different territory, sometimes I call this diversity of consciousness as living on different continents or on different planets.
(7) At any point, a persons can say no to the transition and settle, and they may function well without proceeding onward into more intimacy and less distance.
(8) A person may resist or not be able to enjoy a more intimate relationship with you, yet at a more distant 'lower' phase, can.
(9) In the transpersonal phases - communion and union -, one's circle of persons sharing a like relationship capacity decreases.
(10) The more intimate, or less distant, the phase, the less likely it will be shared among a group of persons. Numbers decreases the potential.
(11) The more one advances toward union, the more sacred relating means to them, even to those who cannot share closeness with them, and the more they can sense the sacredness of the other: this sensing includes all beings, not just humans.
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Sitting outside the laundromat, reading Esther de Waal's Living with Contradiction, personal reflections on the spirituality of St. Benedict's Rule of Life, these words captured my attention -
Baron von Hügel, who was Evelyn Underhill's [late scholar of Christian spirituality and its mysticism) spiritual director, once said: "The best thing we can do for those we love is to help them to escape from us."
This sounded odd. No one had ever said anything like this to me: "Brian, help them escape you." Help others escape me? I reflected on it. After some introspection, yes, I could see the logic in this comment.
I had never considered love might be in helping another escape from me. I knew of letting go of a relationship, but helping the other escape, no. It sounded counterintuitive, even unkind. It challenges how love is usually understood. We need that challenge – I do. Rather than "Hang on," gracefully welcome another to move on without you. And, sometimes, letting go can be this welcome.
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I have often used "invitational presence" for the life of spiritual contemplatives. This means their presence by itself invites, or better, Presence through them. So, in helping someone escape them, that does not change that they are - invitational.
Invitational, nonetheless, entails that we do not cling to someone or manipulate them to enjoy closeness with us. The door opens in and out, and we do not try to drag anyone in or trap them inside. People come, people go, as they choose. Some will come and stay, others come and leave, and others never cross the threshold.
Jesus in the Book of Revelation is an image of this invitation. He stands at the door and knocks; pictures of the scene show there is no handle on the outside. The other must open to him. That is invitational, another metaphor denoting it.
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Some people may need to escape from me, but for some reason, cannot – they need my help. Have you ever been in a relationship and wanted out but felt you were obligated to remain in it, maybe because you did not want to hurt the other person or break your promise – for example, a marriage, devotion to your religion, or family? And, often, we may think, "I don't want to hurt them," yet, more so, we do not want to hurt for the hurt they feel. If we release them, we may feel guilty for letting them down.
Sometimes, I might need to take someone's hand, lead them to the threshold, open the door, and wish them well. Why? Possibly, they do not need what I am present to offer them and receive from them. And, maybe, being close to them is not in my best interest – Oh god! how many times I would have been saved a lot of pain by knowing that, but I was trained to see love as being nice.
Hopefully, you realize I use " door " metaphorically here. Still, I once opened the door for an irate person and told them to leave my home. That was a real door. I was glad to offer them an escape, as much for me as for them.
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When you help someone escape from you, you are being released. You are providing yourself escape; after all, there is "re" in the word "relationship." That "re" applies whether the relationship continues or not, and whether it continues as is or not.
So, escape does not always mean a relationship ends. The relationship changes. Sometimes, you accept the mediocrity of it, discerning that is the only way to remain in the relationship, and you are willing to let it be that. Escape means, regardless, you release the other from what you had hoped for the relationship, or maybe what it once was, even if that pains you. You invite the pain; if you do not have some pain, did you - do you - really love them?
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For persons who have matured spiritually to a postconventional lifestyle, the reason for the escape may be subtle. In postconventional relating, one's circle of close friends likely will decrease. Not for there is something wrong with others, but you are just relating from a different "inner" landscape. Some may see the change in you and vanish from your life. You may even notice people avoiding you, seeming to come close, then running away and hiding. Bless the hiding. That is an act of love. But do not chase them. Close relationships are a grace, not a mandate.
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De Waal continues with the next sentence, her comment, and this one immediately rang true. Still, it needed time for reflection, and I saw something – beyond it being a run-on sentence - I had not initially seen, and it surprised me.
If I have the courage to let go of the person I love I believe that we shall find one another again on a level we could never have imagined.
What surprised me? Well, at first, it seemed to be true, for all times. Like, you do this, and this happens, I guarantee. Drop the relationship at level one, and it can return at level two, six, or nine.
I was surprised later, the day after, by my disagreement with the author. Do we ever have any assurance that, when letting go of a relationship, it will return in a deeper, truer way? De Waal is half right. It may or may not return. The relationship may be dead as a doorbell, never to breathe again. Or there might be a surprising resurrection.
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The above sentences by de Waal and von Hügel inspire me. It is okay to care about someone and help them escape us by releasing them – that is like our walking out that proverbial door. Their walking out is our walking out. Who knows what is on the other side for either?
See, the space someone takes up, someone who cannot reciprocate, well, that is a space someone who can might step into. Clinging to relationships that are not needed in our lives takes up the space. Letting go, we can pray for someone else with whom we can enjoy closeness.
Yet, doing this in respect and kindness is important. Releasing is not the same as rejecting or running from. I recall two relationships that ended in my life and the rituals I performed to honor both people. How we let go is vital, not merely that we do.
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I have lived mostly in solitude for many years, and it took me a long time to realize that one in solitude may be more receptive to closeness than someone who engages with people all the time. Yet, consensual relationships would see me as the anti-social one. In my culture, a person who much enjoys solitude is seen as odd, maybe even needing counseling to bring them out of their turtle shell. Yet, solitude can be a means of entering the holy of holies within the self, preparing one to meet it in others.
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In relating to people in a surface way, I find that sacred, but I do not mistake that for a close relationship. It is good as it is, nothing more or less. I can share a few moments of deep connection with someone at the check-out line, but that is not a close relationship. Still, a sporadic close connection is wonderful; often, I am vivified by feeling the intimate heart of the other, yet we need more.
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Due to past experience, it can hurt – and badly - to let another escape, which is, again, my escape from them. But, at times, it is necessary. This, too, is part of the Path. And, they may return, or not, but I do not wait for that. I remain open, but I do not wait. How can I really help them escape, if I do so and expect them to return? I walk on. Now, one may have a clear intuition that the escape is temporary. Still, for the time, walk on. How can you give another freedom from you, if you wait clinging to them?
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I pray those who need to be close to me, be so. Those who do not need to be close to me, not be so. I pray, with that, to be content and accepting, and knowing the intimacy I have with the Beloved of the Heart will guide me and be close to me, even when that One does not feel close to me.
Note: I have written elsewhere of intimacy, or closeness, with persons who are at a distance from us geographically or via what we call death. I have chosen not to include that matter here. I only say, we can enjoy intimacy with such persons, and that intimacy cannot replace those we are physically in proximity to. Yet, neither can the latter replace the other. And, as you grow into transpersonal, transparent beingness, you may find those "long-distance" relationships arising more or for the first time. Though taking different forms, intimacy is intimacy, and we all need it in the way it gives itself to us. May we receive, so, likewise, may we give. May we celebrate the "re-" with others. We can touch others at a distance, as surely as touching someone standing before us.
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(C) brian wilcox, 2026
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