Saturday, May 18, 2013

Cleverness in Play Always

Walking, one is struck by how near the owls are, or seem. The horizon brightens, and the hill is where it always is. The range of our awareness is forever dim compared to, say, deer. Absence is not restorative. And yes, unexpected travel invitations are dancing lessons from God. Say yes? One smiles at all the visitors, both invited and uninvited. Our mistakes are just another way of seeing what is. Three nights running now - or is it four - one sleeps without dreaming and wakes in a state of rest long ago surrendered as not-for-me. You write and always include a reference to Dickinson, which makes me happy, as cleverness in play always does. Well, we are all happy, all the time, mostly. In the morning, the brook makes a certain sound which somehow lingers throughout the day. What needs forgiveness cannot meaningfully be said to exist. It is a question not of what is offered but of what we are ready to accept. It is all offered, all the time. You translate me helpfully (which, when pointed out, you suggest is related to being Russian first and an immigrant after). We move in the direction of what the world calls intimacy but it mostly feels like a long quiet walk. I will never look at this lake the same way again! To which you respond - channeling ArkadiTcherkassov - it is impossible to do so anyway. You are not precisely the owl, nor the confident hollow of its singing, but the dawn does unfold in you, as I do, muttering and scribbling, joyous at last.

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