It’s taking me a while to start to have words about Colin. For many years he was my sweet beloved. For many years before that, he was my dear dear friend. I met him somewhere around the end of faire 1992, when he still had long hair and rode a motorcycle, not long after his divorce.
Colin was the most brilliant man I’d ever met, both in breadth and width of his interests and expertise. We talked, mused, played in the real, theoretical, and the imaginary, across topics to the edges of our languaging limits. I adored him, every cell of him, and for some reason, he adored me. I am humbled by the love he offered, his gift of seeing people around him into their shininess. And I owe him quite a bit for his dogged years, searching for the voice he sensed in me; which once found, allowed me to begin an evolution into something that led me into the now, into compassion and connection as a way. I hope I returned him even a fraction of the gifts he shared with me. I failed in many ways, unable to see, much except in hindsight. I saw him in his dark sadness, I saw him in his light, and in every aspect, he shone. In my experience of Colin, he was a scintillae, a “spark of stellar essence” (CG Jung, CW14, para 42), and like Dante, “just such am I having lost nearly all the vision itself, while in my heart I feel the sweetness of it yet distill and fall...So dazzling was the splendour of that ray…. I saw within its depth how it conceives all things in a single volume bound by Love, of which the universe is the scattered leaves,” (Dante Alighieri from The Divine Comedy, as quoted in Ferrar & Star, 1991). Love you, miss you Colin.