the sky threatens rain...let it happen early if it happens at all because tonight i look forward to a barbeque with The Posse. And a new friend.
reading the unabridged journals of sylvia plath. not exactly uplifting, to say the least, yet i am so drawn to the insight i find in her words, in her brave and desperate fight to wake herself alive. such a poetic soul, filled at once with angels and demons.
aren't we all?
two passages this morning took my breath away.
Why is it that I find it so difficult to accept the present moment, whole as an apple, without cutting and hacking at it to find a purpose, or setting it up on a shelf with other apples to measure its worth or trying to pickle it in brine to preserve it, and crying to find it turns all brown and is no longer simply the lovely apple I was given in the morning?
and then this:
They were human beings and they were not grace kelley, but they were beautiful from the inside like joan of arc, with that kind of radiance that faith makes, and the kind that love makes.
the kind of radiance too that suddenly comes over you when I look at you dressing or talking or reading and you are suddenly more than the daily self we must live with and love, that fleeting celestial self which shines without the whimsical timing of angels.
that confident surge of exuberance in which I wrote you has dwindled as waves do, to the knowledge that makes me cry, just this once: such a minute fraction of this life do we live: so much is sleep, tooth-brushing, waiting for the mail, for metamorphosis, for those sudden moments of incandescence: unexpected, but once one knows them, one can live life in the light of their past and the hope of their future.