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.
Friday, April 11, 2008
like wiping a slate clean.
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4 comments:
you have so beautifully described the act of creation!
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.
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.
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.
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