opposites, paradoxes, layered things
Cessation, or in this particular case silence, has layers.
My writing silence is layered with intention but also a sudden disturbing absence of proper sentence-formulation-skills, layered with a feeling of lack but paradoxically with abundance, with a touch of confusion but also an understanding that words will unfold as they need to. It is silence that is formed out of what feels very very noisy.
Truffle comes to mind (not the expensive fungus kind, the messy, layered dessert kind). This blogspace is like a veritable truffle of silence. Or maybe more like a mexi-dip.
I have days in a row where I attempt to say something.
But then I stop and ask myself Why and that's as far as I get.
Like now, for example. Why write. I went back and read THIS and was left feeling inadequate in the light of former thoughts and expressions of things. I can't write like that anymore. Now all I can manage to eke out are unreadable scribbles every morning. Fodder better fit for lining the gerbil cage. Except even there the penmarks would rapidly turn it into a soggy mess of blueink/gerbil urine. So not even suitable for the gerbils then. I attempted to re-read bits the other day because I know there is a bigger picture in the scratches but I'd forgotten my reading glasses and got concerned by the squinting, I'm too old for squinting, every squint is a new wrinkle. And then I got a headache so I stopped. Gosh, the human mind has the capacity to mask the profound in a skin of "blah blah blah" sometimes. We are so very full of opposites.
But I think I'll press publish on this one.
With no response to the Why.
And let questions be answers.
Or whatever.
I seem to be using the word whatever a lot these days. Always on the heels of a meaning-filled conversation. It's meant to say No Big Deal when really it's just the opposite. Again with the opposites.
Blergh.
------
Uhhuh, all, have grace for yourself. This, here now life, this is both the little and the More. Breathe it, allow the good and the bad in your bones and try not to run from either. From neither the pleasure or the pain that inevitably shows up when you throw your arms wide and gather in. Staying with things as they come, quietly or thunderously, feels better and hurts less than running even though that sounds like cliche bullshit. I know.
Peace tonight to you from a slightly disheveled version of me.
t.
My writing silence is layered with intention but also a sudden disturbing absence of proper sentence-formulation-skills, layered with a feeling of lack but paradoxically with abundance, with a touch of confusion but also an understanding that words will unfold as they need to. It is silence that is formed out of what feels very very noisy.
Truffle comes to mind (not the expensive fungus kind, the messy, layered dessert kind). This blogspace is like a veritable truffle of silence. Or maybe more like a mexi-dip.
I have days in a row where I attempt to say something.
But then I stop and ask myself Why and that's as far as I get.
Like now, for example. Why write. I went back and read THIS and was left feeling inadequate in the light of former thoughts and expressions of things. I can't write like that anymore. Now all I can manage to eke out are unreadable scribbles every morning. Fodder better fit for lining the gerbil cage. Except even there the penmarks would rapidly turn it into a soggy mess of blueink/gerbil urine. So not even suitable for the gerbils then. I attempted to re-read bits the other day because I know there is a bigger picture in the scratches but I'd forgotten my reading glasses and got concerned by the squinting, I'm too old for squinting, every squint is a new wrinkle. And then I got a headache so I stopped. Gosh, the human mind has the capacity to mask the profound in a skin of "blah blah blah" sometimes. We are so very full of opposites.
But I think I'll press publish on this one.
With no response to the Why.
And let questions be answers.
Or whatever.
I seem to be using the word whatever a lot these days. Always on the heels of a meaning-filled conversation. It's meant to say No Big Deal when really it's just the opposite. Again with the opposites.
Blergh.
------
Uhhuh, all, have grace for yourself. This, here now life, this is both the little and the More. Breathe it, allow the good and the bad in your bones and try not to run from either. From neither the pleasure or the pain that inevitably shows up when you throw your arms wide and gather in. Staying with things as they come, quietly or thunderously, feels better and hurts less than running even though that sounds like cliche bullshit. I know.
Peace tonight to you from a slightly disheveled version of me.
t.
posted by traceyj at 11:56 PM
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