Today I felt the rending of my strength. It is difficult to reconcile that you are where you need to be whilst desperately trying to be anywhere but here. Because here isolation removes each delicate stitch leaving invisible holes out of which one’s self slowly seeps out. Because here hope is incontrovertibly the act of a lunatic.
How do you accept that life is going but that sometimes you no longer recognize the feet beneath you or the earth below them?
Suspended. This is where and how I exist right now. Suspended in every way: relationally, socially, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, economically. I am neither coming nor going nor staying. I am simply attempting to live everything; to live everything with all of its glorious yet brutal contradictions.
I must be foolish. I must keep darning the holes. I must be a lunatic. I must keep hoping.
“At present the palette is distinctly colorful . . . but by intensifying all the colors one arrives once again at quietude and harmony.” (~V. van Gough)
10.1.2010 – Goat’s Milk Yogurt*