Monday, May 19, 2014

Neither Lost Nor Unclear

Walking at 2 a.m. to hear apple blossoms falling, faint stars in homage to a waning yellow moon. One cannot long avoid the presence of fear despite its obscuration by anger and anger's by righteousness. What we give we receive and are identified accordingly.

What was the name of the diner in New York where we ate dinner after so many hours driving in rainy darkness, so sad and frightened, and unaware of how much worse it was all to become? At last I am able to question my investment in chapels. Sneaking out of the garret at 2 a.m. to listen for apple blossoms sifting down from darkened trees as if moonlight itself were whispering her name, the trisyllabic cadence hinging on "L."

One sees that the fear of teaching is simply the fear of knowledge. I stopped near the brook to listen for owls. After many days of rain one smells the earth and walks gently over it as a lover must who takes love carefully.

Emily Dickinson is neither lost nor unclear. Rosary beads make a clicking sound falling to the floor. The nearness now intimidates me, and I am poised to flee, and yet remain, as if beholden, or at last perceiving the lessons of quartz.

"You are the only rock thief I know," said Chrisoula in the forest, and we recounted then the many episodes in our marriage given to my collecting quartz, often in locations where "collecting" is perhaps too generous a verb. One learns, then does, and then finds their teacher was guiding them all along. I could not discern between soft breezes, rustling maple leaves, and softly settling apple blossoms and yet my happiness was unimpeded.

The cello was skillfully - even beautifully - managed but its notes infringed on stillness and so I left and walked to the lake, confused as always about my relationship to art. In Scotland I wrote many letters, including in them lyrics to songs I was working on, and years later was serenaded by someone who had appropriated several images, rendering them in a way that made clear at last that we do not own expression. The dog was tired and chose not to follow me into the forest, which no doubt pleased the deer.

One establishes a base camp - on secures it in an obscure location - and from there ascends daily to perceive the caldera and the stillness of the water filling it. I mean beyond reflection, beyond perception, all the way to what knows itself without the impediments of language.

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