The consensus, I’ve discovered, is that love is worth it. We can take on everything. And the heart, the unknown, the mysterious, the stuff that cannot be proven, wins over our science and reason. We should have known afterall- all those things too weak are the ones able to fit into the parameters of classification and understanding. And all those things too strong, snap the ruler and get stamped “won’t obey rules.”
Love won’t stand still long enough to be measured. The mysterious won’t stay long enough to be completely known. They have better places to be than to give us the satisfaction of finally boasting: “a ha! Love is only 1.5 meters long and the mysterious, my friends, has finally been defined!”
Oh no, they love to see us falter to accurately portray and represent them with our words.
They, like anyone, feel the warm spread of sweet fondness when we try to explain what they mean to us. For (at last) we must admit, they are too big for words, their shapes too curvaceous for an ‘o’ and their points to straight for a ‘t’. They are too fine, too encompassing, too deeply penetrating. We are so lovely and remarkable, that we cannot be copied through words or dance or beauty. And for that, we are both flattered and fulfilled.
I am so overjoyed that you cannot find the words. And so you must refrain to just pulling me as close as you can to your body with urgency. And kissing my cheek with the slowest care and utmost
(Something I wrote on love and mystery before having read Tom Robbin’s lovely words).
“When the mystery of the connection goes, love goes. It’s that simple. This suggests that it isn’t love that is so important to us but the mystery itself. The love connection may be merely a device to put us in contact with the mystery, and we long for love to last so that the ecstasy of being near the mystery will last.” And then in his printed hand-writing, Tom Robbins writes: “but I can and will remind you of two of the most important facts I know:
1. Everything is part of it.
2. It’s never too late to have happy childhood.”
Devendra Banhart to inspire, this is one of my favorites, from his album, Nino Rojo.
Just some music by
The official countdown has begun! 17 days until NaNoWriMo starts! Although I have heard of it, I haven’t thought about it all year but when a friend of mine brought up the idea, I thought, why not?! I’ve been wanting to jumpstart something and recently took up morning pages again since I got the inkling and the restless spirit.
So, next month, I will be writing 50,000 words, which is around 4 pages (no, not double-spaced) a day, six days a week. It’s not the amount of words that I find daunting, but I am interested to see what becomes of this novel, for it will be the first time I’ve written 50,000 words with a theme: memoir(e). If you’d like to join, sign up at NaNoWriMo.org to get out 50,000 words from that subconscious of yours.
“Dilapidated House” Part 2 in the series. Stay tuned for the rest!
“And what kind of God would He be
if the vote of millions in this world could sway Him
to change the Divine
that speaks so clearly with compassion’s elegant tongue
saying, eternally saying:
all are forgiven- moreover, dears,
no one has ever been
“What Kind of God” by Kabir.
I absolutely adore mystical poetry.
The start of a new series- alas!