If not permanent, unmoving, at least, for months and years. A gentle under-note to the swirling clamour of words, both spoken and written: the gloom and fear, officiousness and hard sell of the public sphere, the staccato, self-referential chatter of the private. Words that hang there, enduring and weathering and alluding to things beyond their original intention.
Had to do this, so I could use the photo. Somepeople claimed it was forty questions – where's No. 14, guys?
1) Who is the last person you high-fived? Don’t think I’ve ever done this. 2) If you were drafted into a war, would you survive? I would refuse to be drafted - would flee if possible and face the music if not.
3) Do you sleep with the TV on? I used to – one of the reasons I don’t have one now.
4) Have you ever drunk milk straight out of the carton? No. Not out of fastidiousness. I don’t like the taste of milk or cardboard.
5) Have you ever won a spelling bee? No. I don’t think we had those.
6) Have you ever been stung by a bee? Yes. In the armpit when it flew out of a pillow case I was changing. Very nasty.
7) How fast can you type? 75 wpm. Tried really hard to get to 80, but this seems to be my natural limit.
8) Are you afraid of the dark? I was as a kid. Now I like the dark - not enough of it in the city.
9) What colour are your eyes? Blue.
10) Have you ever made out at a drive-in? No - I’m British.
11) When is the last time you chose a bath over a shower? Couple of days ago. Could cope with giving it up to save water, though.
12) Do you knock on wood? Yes.
13) Do you floss daily? No, though I should.
14) Can you hula hoop? Don’t know. I was quite good 40 years ago.
15) Are you good at keeping secrets? Yes. But don’t find it easy.
16) What do you want for Christmas? To be preparing for January meditation retreat in India
17) Do you know the Muffin Man? No, but I used to.
18) Do you talk in your sleep? Yes, at length, I believe.
19) Who wrote the book of love? Marilynne Robinson – “Gilead” is the book that springs to mind, since I read it very recently.
20) Have you ever flown a kite? Mmm, yes, lovely – it’s been too long.
21) Do you wish on your fallen lashes? Huh?
22) Do you consider yourself successful? No. I try not to think in those terms, but the conditioning goes deep.
23) How many people are on your contact list of your mobile? Don’t have a mobile.
24) Have you ever asked for a pony? Probably, but not very seriously.
25) Plans for tomorrow? It’s Friday. I’ll be looking forward to the weekend.
26) Can you juggle? Well, only two balls with two hands – that’s an achievement with my physical coordination.
27) Are you missing someone now? Yes.
28) When was the last time you told someone I Love You? Yesterday.
29) And truly meant it? Can’t imagine saying it if I didn’t.
30) How often do you drink? Maybe once a week - wine.
31) How are you feeling today? Not too bad. Spring is coming.
32) What do you say too much? Hopefully, ….
33) Have you ever been suspended or expelled from school? No. I nearly was from university. Not for anything interesting – I left the job in France for which I was allowed to take a year off.
34) What are you looking forward to? Spring.
35) Have you ever crawled through a window? Yes. I was terrified of getting stuck.
36) Have you ever eaten dog food? Ugh, no!
37) Can you handle the truth? I hope so.
38) Do you like green eggs and ham? What? Is that an American thing?
39) Do you have any cool scars? One near my eye from walking into a lamp post – rather a nice cliché.
¶ 12:31 pm15 comments
Random recent photos. And completely random is how I feel: thence the lack of anything substantive here of late. The shell is standing up, walking around, emitting words from time to time, but shell is what it is – knock on me and I’ll reverberate, or crack, perhaps, if you knock too hard. The skin is standing up, but inside there the organs, vessels, fibres are sleeping on their feet like horses. Sporadically, words and images bubble to the surface, but there’s no theme. I’ve lost the plot. There was a plot, wasn't there? I'm sure there was. It’ll come back to me, I suppose. Rest in the randomness. Let it be. It’ll all come back to me.
This morning the blogosphere handed me this timely piece which spoke very loudly to what I said yesterday. Yup, I’ll try to feel the cold air on my face as a stimulus and challenge, not just an ache, and appreciate the wonder of the seasons – all of them!
¶ 2:44 pm6 comments
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Willing Winter to end seems wrong. Cold days, surely, are not less precious. But, oh, this cold - not bright, frosty cold, but iron-grey cold that pokes into the bones and needles the weariness already entrenched there! Brave shoots and flowers are everywhere. Braver than me. This cold March is the last straw and I'm wishing I could weave the straw into a cosy nest and take a small, last-minute hibernation until it warms up.
It’s the Spring Equinox on Monday. Perhaps a little invocation ceremony is in order. Or, if anyone is in need of a new displacement activity, apparently there is a traditional belief, most often attributed to the Chinese, that you can stand a raw egg on end during the equinox. This derives from the notion that, due to the sun's equidistant position between the poles of the earth on the first day of Spring, special gravitational forces apply.
¶ 5:31 pm2 comments
Too busy to think, too busy to blog, I catch sight of this reflection in the mirror-glass window of an office block as I scuttle by, and am drawn to stop and stare. It mirrors my current feelings: complex, distorted and confusing, but not without interest, not without openings
¶ 1:05 pm5 comments
In the quiet of the night, breath. Breathe in the night-time quiet. At 10, fall into heavy sleep. At 2, wake with the mind striking match after match to peer at tasks undone that must be done tomorrow. Toss and curse and toss and, giving up, sit up. Here is the night, not quite dark, but quiet. Here, breath after breath, breathe past the racing thoughts. Breathe in the night-time quiet. Breathe out the edge of self. Here is my practice, coming to meet me in the night. I thought I was alone, but here are breath and silence and I am glad. Look! I and here and breath are one. In the night-time quiet, breathe.
¶ 1:40 pm9 comments