For there is a boundary to looking.
And the world that is looked at so deeply
wants to flourish in love.
go and do heart-work
on all the images imprisoned within you; for you
overpowered them: but even now you don't know them.
Learn, inner man, to look on your inner woman,
the one attained from a thousand
natures, the merely attained but
not yet beloved form.
It is our task to imprint this temporary, perishable earth into ourselves so deeply, so painfully and passionately, that its essence can rise again, "invisibly," inside us. We are the bees of the invisible. We wildly collect the honey of the visible, to store it in the great golden hive of the invisible.
The bird is a creature that has a very special feeling of trust in the external world, as if she knew that she
is one with its deepest mystery. That is why she sings in it as if she were singing within her own depths;
that is why we so easily receive a birdcall into our own depths; we seem to be translating it without
residue into our emotion; indeed, it can for a moment turn the whole world into inner space, because we
feel that the bird does not distinguish between her heart and the world's.
Letter to Lou Andres-Salome February 20, 1914
I have flour on my toes. Just looked down.
Made Pita Bread with oregano basil rosemary and olives, warm with butter.
Last week I posted an empty blog.
Was trying cell phone posting the night Hurricane Earl came through. A bit inland, away from computer, everyone in Hurricane Party mood after two days of tying down the hatches, watching swirling mass warnings, beaches evacuating people. We expected six feet of water pushed by wind and rain up through the Sounds. Thankfully All softened as the evening came, except people who got giddy.
I wonder where my words and images blew off to?