The girl who was once from NYC, transplanted to the sticky trap of the CT countryside. Teacher, singer, writer, hippie chick. Dancer along the path through the dark.
~May words and music and laughter light the way to kindred spirits, kind of heart~
Also a Mommy. That's the most important thing that's happened along the way, but not what this blog will be about.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
That Kind
What kind of love
do you want?
That all-encompassing,
lose-your-breath,
feels-like-you’re-gonna-die-without-it
kind?
That won’t last, dear,
when it’s 5.30pm
on a Tuesday afternoon
and you’re at the petrol station
and you just filled up
and you’ve forgotten your purse,
you’ll want the love
that makes someone
leave their house or job
and bring it to you.
That kind.( *merisongbird added a note: I love this poem. It’s so true. Plus it made me laugh. BUT, I guess I want both, all rolled into one person. I guess that’s pretty funny, too.)
To free your soul’s voice
go deep, to where the pain lives…
and write about it.
I know who you are.
What’s even more important —
I know what you are.
Just as life can thrive
despite impossible odds,
love will find a way.
Of all my wishes,
the wish that I wish the most:
That wishes come true.
I’ve never missed
anyone more than I have
come to miss myself.
Only hindsight shows
how the hardest parts of life
were the easy parts.
Curve a face
that there may be speech, of earth,
of ardor, of
things with eyes, even
here, where you read me blind…
Paul Celan, from “O Little Root of a Dream,” trans. Heather McHugh and Nikolai Popov (via proustitute)
It may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come to our real work and that when we no longer know which way to go we have begun our real journey. The mind that is not baffled is not employed. The impeded stream is the one that sings.
Wendell Barry, “Poetry and Marriage: The Use of Old Forms,” 1982, from Standing by Words: Essays (Saw this quote in my Tumblr feed this morning, broken up into verse, and titled “The Real Work.” The quote, like most quotes, is much, much richer in context.)
I will meet you on the nape of your neck one day,
on the surface of intention, word becoming act.
We will breathe into each other the high mountain tales,
where the snows come from, where the waters begin.
Luke Davies, from “[In the yellow time of pollen]” (via proustitute)
