“Longing, we say, because desire is full
of endless distances.”

02 September 2009

...summarizing the literature of raymond carver:  "nothing happens and rarely do they prevail."

 
start at the beginning.  try equanimity.  see it as a blessing.  revel in gratitude.  take a breath.  make room for grace.  seeking a response vs. causing a reaction.  these are just a few things im learning right now.      
  
my first monarch in the goldenrod under damp woolen clouds the grey angel of september descending the light when it happens not punishing relentless but lyrical miraculous.  standing with two dogs on a lonesome road watching a negative space in the clouds like a star slide insideout revealing the flannel blue sky. 
 

everything itself.  undistracted by the craze of spring the plush of summer the recluse of winter.  the teasel dropped its lavender peignoir two weeks ago the brown bones beneath revealed space and air i am here.  teasel felted woolen shoes in a past life and the low valley clouds turned insideout by the infinite sky.  poking about on the verge with a long stick and again that story at the end where the dogs run a ring around her.  portent easier to discern as today is a day where the wind cant keep its secrets and only those of us out in the wind will be the ones to hear.  rustletide.   
 
 the last time i drove through pennsylvania it was a highwall pylon single lane in the dark from harrisburg to the state line.  

"...blue to denote sensitivity and an emotional nature, a dreamy, caring, loving individual.  pursues her thoughts and fantasies, intuitively attunes to the needs of others...a lover who does not wish to commit, who is attractive, but passive...does what she believes in, and is considered a charmer...you?"
 
recent conversation bw myself and the cowboy:
m:  you wanna check your chicken?
c:  you said you werent up for it.
the laughing blonde the only one that laughs like i laugh out of turn only unreasonable when you fail to consider that everythings an inside joke.  someone said i was a leader because where i sat in the room everyone else sat away from me.  she sat near me and i fetched her paper for her and she fell off a horse in dallas and jesus our blessed lord savior is the light of the world.  i mused to the cowboy that perhaps there was a pool going, who would convert the heathen first like a dogfight like who can drag the witch out of the circle like evangelical sumo.  dusk and the sound of a weedwhacker assures me that the farm is far away. 
 
 

43 of 365:
1.  reasons for waiting, jethro tull.
2.  andrew bird.
3.  my friends of faith.
4.  brian eno.
5.  i brought my own lunch.
6.  i prayed for grace.
7.  vanilla oil.
8.  first kiss, tom waits.
9.  learning to juggle.
10.  the magic eye metaphor.
11.  nina simone.

1 comment:

Blessed Be.

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
"And if the question were asked: What is more real, the mundane or the sublime? most would hesitate before they gave an answer. On the one side, details: say, the aftermath of a breakfast, dirty chipped plates in the sink, their rims encrusted with egg yolk. Against this, the unnameable: small aching heart with boasts, what can you know? Outside the cage of everything we ever heard or saw, beyond, outside, above, there lies the real, hiding as long as we shall live, there stretch and trail the millions of names of God burning across the eons. When all through this our end will come before we even know the names of us.

For many the egg yolk prevails." -L.M.

"Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well." -V.V.G.

"The perfection of the Absolute where all Becoming stops and pure Being, immutable, timeless, unchanging, hangs forever like a ripe peach upon the bough." -E.A.

"...and the whole incident was incredibly frazzling and angst-rod and filled almost a whole mead notebook and is here recounted in only its barest psycho-skeletal outline." -D.F.W.

"At the top of the mountain, we are all snow leopards." -H.S.T.

"Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live." -D.T.
"Cometh a voice: My children, hear; From the crowded street and the close-packed mart I call you back with my message clear, back to my lap and my loving heart. Long have ye left me, journeying on by range and river and grassy plain, to the teeming towns where the rest have gone - come back, come back to my arms again. So shall ye lose the foolish needs that gnaw your souls; and my touch shall serve to heal the fretted nerve. Treading the turf that ye once loved well, instead of the stones of the city's street, ye shall hear nor din nor drunken yell, but the wind that croons in the ripening wheat. I that am old have seen long since ruin of palaces made with hands for the soldier-king and the priest and prince whose cities crumble in desert sands. But still the furrow in many a clime yields softly under the ploughman's feet; still there is seeding and harvest time, and the wind still croons in the ripening wheat. The works of man are but little worth; for a time they stand, for a space endure; but turn once more to your mother - Earth, my gifts are gracious, my works are sure. Instead of the strife and pain I give you peace, with its blessing sweet. Come back, come back to my arms again, for the wind still croons in the ripening wheat."
-John Sandes, The Earth-Mother (excerpt, 1918)