Love Exists Only in the Absence of Words

By Bruce Kasanoff

My mind was a mess as I boarded the 14:20 train to Zurich. Our negotiations in Geneva had all but self-destructed. My co-founder flipped out and our bankers had barely managed to stop him from physically assaulting the arrogant narcissist across the table.

As I looked for a seat, I was mentally ripping through alternative after alternative, looking for a way to resurrect the deal. We had one day, maybe two, before our investors would convene to try and boot us out of our positions.

A hard tug on my shoulder interrupted my mental chatter. I had no choice but to stop. Anger rose in my chest as I turned to see who grabbed me.

No one was there. That made no sense. I glanced around. The train was empty. It should have been packed.

Then… I felt her presence, a lone woman sitting in a space sufficient for four. She was tucked against the window, just five feet away from me. Before any of her features registered in my conscious mind, I was overwhelmed by a sense of familiarity.

Her again, I thought. An irrational thought, utterly out of character for me. If I’m one thing, it’s rational.

(To a fault, many say.)

It took me a minute to collect myself. She was nonplussed, patient.

She gestured with her hand, inviting me to sit across from her.

I did.

Settling into the seat, I took her in.

Or at least tried, and failed. Was she blond or brunette, slight or athletic? 30 or 40? I didn’t have a clue. She was beautiful, alluring, ethereal and commonplace. She was everything and everyone.

Do I sound rational to you? Hell no.

I know this sounds crazy, but that’s what I perceived.

Trying to break the ice, I started, “My name is….”

She held up a single finger, silencing me mid-sentence.

She handed me a note scribbled on a torn piece of paper.

THE USE OF LANGUAGE PRESUPPOSES THAT WE ARE SEPARATE.

We know each other. Yes.

We must. But how? Where? She was simultaneously a complete stranger and the most reassuring presence I had ever encountered.

What could I possibly say in response to a message like that?

(And when did she write it, my barely functioning rational brain asked?)

I felt her grasp my hand. Her touch was loving, familiar, instantly comforting.

I looked down. Her hands were three feet away from mine.

Reality glitched. It felt something like an earthquake, power failure and drinking binge condensed into a few seconds.

I blinked myself back into focus.

My eyes darted back to catch hers. She smiled.

Her finger traced the outline of my lips. Or so it felt. As before, there was no actual movement on her part.

Something shifted inside me and language disappeared from my toolkit. I had no words or thoughts, just feelings and instincts.

If you had asked me a question at that moment, I would not have understood the concepts of “question” or “answer” or “you”.

Then the train disappeared.

When I woke up two hours later in Zurich, she was gone, but I was a different person.

No longer did I feel like a Type A overachiever who can’t stop proving himself. I felt connected, loved and at peace.

That said, my left arm hurt a bit.

I scratched my forearm, and it hurt even worse. Pushing up my sleeve, I saw a new tattoo on my forearm.

LOVE EXISTS ONLY IN THE ABSENCE OF WORDS

It was a reminder from my soulmate, the one I had forgotten until now.

Kira.

She had signed it.

Kira.

My grounding presence across a thousand lives, who maintains a strong foundation in the physical realm while crossing easily across countless spiritual dimensions.

When I get too deep into human existence, Kira is always there to nudge me back to my true nature. This time, she wasn’t taking any chances and left a guidepost I can follow throughout the rest of this life.

Here I am on a train pulling into Zurich station. I’m barely awake, with a new tattoo I didn’t have when I got onto the train a few hours earlier.

I trace the letters with my finger. This is one of the few moments in this life when I have a piece of evidence that my reality just bent in a manner that logic alone cannot explain.

Nervous that I may still be dreaming, I pull out my phone and take a picture of the tattoo. It takes a few tries before I frame the image properly, but my phone sees it, too. That’s a relief.

Proof. My brain still craves logic, evidence. “Facts.”

An hour ago, deep into this mysterious encounter, I was 100% certain: across from me was Kira, my soulmate across 5,000 lives.

Now, except for the tattoo, it feels like a product of my active imagination. Kira? The name had never crossed my mind before.

Maybe she left other clues? I check the seat, under it, the little trash bin. Maybe there's a ticket stub, a discarded newspaper with something circled, or perhaps even that little slip of paper is somewhere nearby.

Nope.

But here's the thing. The real clues aren't physical. If this really was a meeting with my companion across thousands of lives, the important clues are not going to be in the form of everyday materials and business receipts. Who knows how much energy it took for her to tattoo my arm? I bet she only did that to prove it wasn’t all just a dream.

If I was going to pick up clues, they were most likely to be in the form of feelings, instincts, intuition and perhaps waves of energy. Signs so subtle that they are only recognizable when I detach from the distractions of daily life.

I need time to think before my partners descend on me and the bankers start calling.

Where can I go to hide and think? NO! I need to feel.

Lindenhofplatz.

A historic square perched on a hill overlooking the Limmat River and the Old Town. It's surprisingly peaceful.

The energy there is ancient, grounded.

I exit the train station and head towards the city center, then walk down Bahnhofstrasse, the main shopping street. I turn on Paradeplatz and soon the street becomes steeper as I approach the Old Town. Ten minutes later, I’m there on a small hill in Old Town.

I find a bench under one of the linden trees, close my eyes, and just breathe. Let the city sounds fade away. Let the history of this place speak to me. There's a reason this spot has been a gathering place for centuries.

LOVE EXISTS ONLY IN THE ABSENCE OF WORDS

The words tattooed onto my arm fill my awareness again.

My initial interpretation was that they mean it’s hard to describe true love with words. But that’s not right.

They imply a level of love that surpasses the limitations of language, something deeply felt rather than articulated. Maybe something that transcends reality?

In profound connections, there is an intuitive understanding. As humans, before we develop language, we experience connection and affection. Love is a primal emotion that predates words and exists independently of them.

Good insight, but still too many words. I push them out of my brain and slip into silence.

Time elapses, how much I’m not sure.

Sink into the feeling. Move towards what calls to me most deeply. Let the path unfold. The answers always come when you're ready to truly see them. And maybe, just maybe, you'll start to understand why I chose a crowded train in Switzerland for our little rendezvous. There was a good reason. You will find it.

I open my eyes. It’s dark. Those weren’t my words. They were Kira’s.

We can communicate!