a post from someone else's blog, and comments from the last post.

talk about lazy blogging.

my head's too addled with looking after a sick but cheery, chattery seven year old with a penchant for seemingly nonsensical repetition to think of anything intelligent to say.

thank goodness for the magic of links.

Pauline said..."the world doesn't order itself according to my whims and fancies. (or does it? sigh. another question.)"

YOUR world does! I always liked the dialogue between Richard Bach and Donald Shimoda in Bach's "Illusions" where Donald says, "Are you telling me that...four billion people do not live in four billion separate worlds...?"

There's more to the quote but that part always stuck with me. I so agree on a visceral level with the notion that we all live in worlds of our own making. Knowing that allows me to be far less judgmental.


focusfinder said...Your words and pictures have frequently offered me fascinating glimpses into your world, thank you.

actually, it's my turn to say thank you.

on a chair, on a whim, in the shed.

this is a question I often ask myself:

what is one thing that you believe to be true, insofar as anything can be either true or known?

the answer varies, according to the wind and whatever face the moon happens to be showing. I'm usually not troubled by that sort of uncertainty.

and even if I was, I don't imagine it would matter much. the world doesn't order itself according to my whims and fancies.

(or does it? sigh. another question.)

comments.

read promptly and appreciated, if not always answered quickly.

Pauline said...

you have so beautifully described the act of creation!

April 11, 2008 3:14 PM

shara said...

thank you Pauline, I'm full of ideas lately. writing, painting, singing, it's all starting to come together, or no, not starting, that happened some time ago. continuing, I suppose. I keep having difficult days but they pass more quickly. often I'm able to think my way out of them, or not think and find the way out that way. hope you've been well.

April 11, 2008 8:39 PM

Pauline said...

It's so good to have you back :) All's well here for the most part. I've been hobbled by plantar fasciitis in one heel but otherwise, life percolates along happily.

April 12, 2008 3:38 AM

shara said...

I'm sorry to hear you're being hobbled by anything. I hate having sore feet, every time I do I think of the little mermaid walking on knives, or fire, wincing inside with each step but not able to say anything, having gone mute and given up her beautiful scales for uncertain love.

April 15, 2008 8:28 AM

objurgate:

to express strong disapproval of; to criticize severely.

objurgate comes from the past participle of Latin from objurgare, "to scold, to blame," from ob-, "against" + jurgare, "to dispute, to quarrel, to sue at law," from jus, jur-, "law" + -igare (from agere, "to lead").

now why, I ask you. and the asking isn't a need for an answer necessarily. might just be a desire for conversation. might just be an (?) rhetorical device.

now why, I ask again, aware of not having finished the first question, why do I think that rhetorical begs for an rather than a?

but why, I was asking. why does the new word I learned today thrill my heart, or whatever feels so suddenly cold?

I don't know. I'm thrilled by words. it's always been this way, or at least as long as I can recall, which is as good as forever if it's all you are likely to know.

if april showers will bring may flowers.

the sky is a dull pearl. or an oyster, I suppose, though to be honest the only oysters I've seen came from a tin at a football party a decade ago, and a sky that colour would be awful, a sky like a miner's lung. I imagine oysters raw or lightly steamed is the colour people encounter in paint samples and so on.

in any case, oysters and hail don't make any sort of coherent post together, do they? oh well. I'm just opening up the door and letting whatever's in there spill out, and we'll sort it out later, if we've got nothing better to do.

like wiping a slate clean.

always though, traces left behind. shadows of words.

it's foggy this morning but the sun is supposed to shine the next two days. tomorrow I'll be busy with the girls but today is all my own. I will waste it or fill it full of work, make impermanent somethings I can see, if not save.

or make nothing more substantial than a song, sung, spoken or only thought, only half-thought, barely glimpsed and as insubstantial as anything, as everything.

there's the thrill: the moment of decision, poised on the edge of the leap. once you choose, truly choose and not just hold the yes or no in your mouth, then you're committed to it, or it to you. it's all gravity after that, or flight.

or both, each one inextricably bound to the other, you (me) and the choice, which is the path that makes and unmakes itself for your wondering, wandering eye to catch and try (and beautifully fail) to hold.