The Mystery Does Not Get Clearer

"The mystery does not get clearer by repeating the question,
nor it is bought with going to amazing places.


Until you've kept your eyes 
and your wanting still for fifty years
you don't begin to cross over from confusion."


That's Rumi.


I've been yearning for amazing places, which actually is not like me.  I'm usually quite content to stay in my room.  Read about Dakini's Bliss this morning on Facebook, with thanks to Pema Chodron.  I have a new name for the anxiety and rawness of emotions I've been feeling lately and this makes me happy.

When I've lost my nerve for writing, or just generally lost my nerve, I usually go to Clarice Lispector.  This week it was The Passion According to G.H.  "All you need to do is see the initials G.H. in the leather of my luggage to know that's me.  And I have never demanded of anyone else anything more than the mere coverage of the initials of their names."  

Do you remember when a person put their initials on suitcases?  Monograms seem to be all the rage - I suppose they have been for a while.  That impulse though - to put our initials on things - I find that interesting.  To be known in that small way.  It's something, I think.

The weekend was restorative.  Filled with hiding, escaping, not answering the phone (sorry A.), baking, cooking, cleaning, gardening and even napping.  We spent time together, doing nothing, reading, taking photographs.  I feel almost human again.

I feel so blessed to have a kid who when you say, do you want to go and fly around the front yard with swaths of fabric so I can take photos of it, says, sure.  She seems to get what I'm after right away.  And she's also a great hand model.  : )

Meanwhile, have had this song stuck in my head all weekend:




It's only life after all.....