Bill smiled to himself. The symbolism could not have been clearer. (Or was it symbolism? Bill had forgotten nearly everything from his college semiotics class. In any case the meaning was obvious.) There was the answer staring him directly in the face. His thoughts jumped back to last night. Not that they had far to jump. All day thoughts of last night had been rolling around in his head. Last night had been one of those rare, wonderful moments in time that you can't really be sure will ever happen again. If Bill had counted the moments like this that he could remember (moments that were by definition unforgettable), they would have fit on one hand for sure. Close friendships are rare enough, he mused. But then there are those moments, that you certainly cannot control or try to make happen, when those barriers that keep even kindred spirits apart are removed or let down. Perhaps it was the calm of the night. (It was almost always at night, wasn't it?) Perhaps it was the impermanence of their situation. No, this was not their final parting of ways, but the impending, albeit temporary, spatial separation was in someways a microcosm of a much more permanent separation they knew would eventually be coming. Whatever it was, the conversation ran deeper than usual. "The meaning of life" would be an apt way to describe its content, although Bill meant that in the most inclusive sense possible. Bill had decided long ago that the meaning of life had something to do with music, religion, and sex. No other things have quite the power to captivate and are so central to the human experience. (If you are a tone-deaf, impotent atheist, you probably don't have much to live for, Bill figured. Bill also liked having an excuse to introduce people to the term "hemidemisemiquaver.") But it was obviously more than just the content of the conversation that made last night so special, Bill thought. It had to be the people he was with. Maybe he should add friendship to his "meaning of life" list. He had never wanted so much just to pause time. He didn't care that he was now doing manual labor on barely two hours of sleep. Bill would have gladly done it all over again. It just added to the a strange, wonderful, indescribable, and oddly dissatisfied feeling had pervaded him all day. Yes, dissatisfied. That was the part that Bill hadn't quite understood until now. Strange, because they had even talked about this very thing, about Augustinian restlessness, about how humans can't quite ever be satisfied, and about how the best sources attest that the most ecstatic human experiences only make the ache, the longing, the dissatisfaction even worse. Hadn't C.S. Lewis called this Sehnsucht? Hadn't Tolkien mentioned "regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of
blessedness"? Of course, Bill had felt this restlessness before, and accepted the received wisdom that it only gets stronger the more ecstatic your experience. But he had never felt it to quite this extent before. Usually, it was the chance sighting of a pretty face that would drive him crazy. But the happiest things he could remember? Not so much. This was probably why he didn't know what to make of his dissatisfaction, until now. But there it was, the answer staring him directly in the face. (It's all in Lewis, all in Lewis! He was right after all!) Or perhaps more correctly, pounding his eardrums. Someone nearby was playing music. Overall, not a bad selection, Bill had thought. It sort of makes the day less monotonous. But then a song by U2 came on. Bill had always enjoyed U2, and this song in particular, but hadn't really paid close attention to the lyrics until now.
I have climbed the highest mountains
I have run through the fields
Only to be with you
Only to be with you...
...I have kissed honey lips
Felt the healing in her finger tips
It burned like fire
I was burning inside her...
...But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for
But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for
Bill couldn't help but smile. It all made sense now. Last night was but another reminder that no matter how much we seek, even though we reach the very heights of human experience, we won't ever find quite what we are looking for. Not in this lifetime, anyway.
