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I would like to step out of my heart
and go walking beneath the enormous sky.
I would like to pray.
And surely of all the stars that perished
long ago,
one still exists.
(Rainer Maria Rilke, from "Lament")
-----
GaaaAH. I am in love with this man, this long-dead man, and his words. Never mind that they aren't quite his words, but translated from German. Same difference.
The Duino Elegies are stunning. I've only read the first two - I'm saving the rest. Some things must be savored.
Yes - the springtimes needed you. Often a star
was waiting for you to notice it. A wave rolled toward you
out of the distant past, or as you walked
under an open window, a violin
yielded itself to your hearing. All this was mission.
But could you accomplish it? Weren't you always
distracted by expectation, as if every event
announced a beloved? (Where can you find a place
to keep her, with all the huge strange thoughts inside you
going and coming and often staying all night.)
Yes. I am in love.
-----
My thoughts today were frequently of Nepal. My mother is understanding and encouraging but, I suspect, inwardly doubtful. As I am, as well, so I don't blame her for that. It is an insane idea. It is nearly impossible.
But oh, how I want to go. Surely I could swing it, somehow? Surely this one time I can tread heavily on the path of each and every worry and come to the end of this dream's road. Surely it is within my grasp, if I want it enough.
(If I do this, I will see three countries in three months. England, Scotland, and Nepal. And, I believe, Thailand, if only for a layover. I would be a world traveler.)
-----
Today I had to drive to the tire dump a few miles from the site to collect traps. The dump is at the end of a long dirt road. It was a hot day, and my air conditioning is still broken, and my windows were down. The heat and pollen made me dizzy.
The car kicked up a cloud of dusty dirt and some of it came through the windows and as I breathed it in, it settled on my tongue. The feel of it, dry and fine and tasteless, was strange, and oddly comforting.
On the way back - dizzier still from chloroform and exertion - I passed a freshly mowed lawn. That scent of cut grass was overwhelming. The scent of summer, of dry heat, of long days and clear skies. Soothing. Alive.
Those two things have stayed with me, lingering in my senses, making me want to write a story around them. (It is no wonder my stories are all so lacking in the plot department, with such bare-boned beginnings.) Perhaps I will.
But not tonight. Tonight I will pack for the weekend sojourn to the lake. Two days of water and sun and quiet thoughts behind half-closed lids - I can hardly wait.
and go walking beneath the enormous sky.
I would like to pray.
And surely of all the stars that perished
long ago,
one still exists.
(Rainer Maria Rilke, from "Lament")
-----
GaaaAH. I am in love with this man, this long-dead man, and his words. Never mind that they aren't quite his words, but translated from German. Same difference.
The Duino Elegies are stunning. I've only read the first two - I'm saving the rest. Some things must be savored.
Yes - the springtimes needed you. Often a star
was waiting for you to notice it. A wave rolled toward you
out of the distant past, or as you walked
under an open window, a violin
yielded itself to your hearing. All this was mission.
But could you accomplish it? Weren't you always
distracted by expectation, as if every event
announced a beloved? (Where can you find a place
to keep her, with all the huge strange thoughts inside you
going and coming and often staying all night.)
Yes. I am in love.
-----
My thoughts today were frequently of Nepal. My mother is understanding and encouraging but, I suspect, inwardly doubtful. As I am, as well, so I don't blame her for that. It is an insane idea. It is nearly impossible.
But oh, how I want to go. Surely I could swing it, somehow? Surely this one time I can tread heavily on the path of each and every worry and come to the end of this dream's road. Surely it is within my grasp, if I want it enough.
(If I do this, I will see three countries in three months. England, Scotland, and Nepal. And, I believe, Thailand, if only for a layover. I would be a world traveler.)
-----
Today I had to drive to the tire dump a few miles from the site to collect traps. The dump is at the end of a long dirt road. It was a hot day, and my air conditioning is still broken, and my windows were down. The heat and pollen made me dizzy.
The car kicked up a cloud of dusty dirt and some of it came through the windows and as I breathed it in, it settled on my tongue. The feel of it, dry and fine and tasteless, was strange, and oddly comforting.
On the way back - dizzier still from chloroform and exertion - I passed a freshly mowed lawn. That scent of cut grass was overwhelming. The scent of summer, of dry heat, of long days and clear skies. Soothing. Alive.
Those two things have stayed with me, lingering in my senses, making me want to write a story around them. (It is no wonder my stories are all so lacking in the plot department, with such bare-boned beginnings.) Perhaps I will.
But not tonight. Tonight I will pack for the weekend sojourn to the lake. Two days of water and sun and quiet thoughts behind half-closed lids - I can hardly wait.