My front, her front – confronting: facing, mutual facing – close up close-up. energy pours in, more energy pours in, reserves are put on full alert, sirens wail, Calvary (even the cavalry) looms, angels are calculating the odds.
Ssshh… And what kind of silence is that, self-imposed, or the sort that comes from outside, Shut up or else?
It has been more than six weeks since those exams, and there was an email this week from the department apologising for the delay in sending out the results, and now, he explained, with the postal strike.
The fruits of our labours, while other voices are clamouring, Have you written any poems recently, Not since the one in July, What do you think about the translation of the chapter on Nibbana, What is there to say, what can I possibly say.
And the attention of the gentle Professor, her eloquent smile, Are you upset or something, A narrative begun with the title Life Before.
In November mmj is attending two Arvon writing weeks.
What is important and what is distraction? And how to tell the difference? And furthermore, how can something seem so right and then come to be proved wrong? The view changes; sometimes simply with the passage of time – no that can't be true: there must be an intervening event not simply the passage of time. I'm caught up, caught in the net of my present view; unless you help me, unless you tell me about your view, use words that I can make use of. But they might bounce off the taut screen of my view. I might say, oh, you would say that, wouldn't you.
I wonder if there are two sorts of emptiness – empty emptiness and full emptiness. Such wonderfully crazy language. An emptiness in which God is and an emptiness in which God isn't.
Lying awake at 3 a.m. and kept awake by having to think my way through circuitous byways; puzzling over connections and disconnections. What would be thought and perhaps said (and to whom) in the way of self-showing, what some call sharing (thank you for sharing that with us). Show and tell time. Keeping safe and trying to follow Ariadne's thread back home having killed the monster. Labyrinth and mind constructed for my own comfort and survival with half-an-eye on the rules of conduct and conflict.
What was it about the classes at the Beda that made me jump back like a scalded cat. I could have screamed in rage and frustration, insult and betrayal.