Happiness has a bland repertoire of expressions, and most days i find myself going about the day, skimming through random joys and horrors of the past, and thanking god in different permutations for everything that has led to today.
.
We are driven to odd attempts; once it would not have occurred to me to put out in a boat, not on a night like this.
Still, it was an instrument, and I had pledged myself to try any instrument that came my way. Never to refuse one from conviction of incompetence.
A long time I was simply learning to handle the skiff; I had no special training and my own training was against me.
I had always heard that darkness and water were a threat.
In spite of this, darkness and water helped me to arrive here.
I watched the lights on the shore I had left for a long time; each one, it seemed to me, was a light I might have lit, in the old day.
- Adrienne Rich
sometimes it is hard to say the unsayable.
.
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.
- warning by Jenny joseph
Rainer Maria Rilke, letter to Aurelia Gallarati-Scotti (Lettres Milanaises 1921-1926), 1956
when the night is quiet, i enjoy what stray thoughts and memories adrift in its wake; it is telling, the strange passerbys that take dwelling in our minds
.
i have barely processed it but one step out and already all these faces, words, gazes, screams, close words behind closed doors, tears, secrets kept away from friends and families, flood through my senses as the dust settle and bustle quietens ... and with the last foot out, i have never felt so loved by so many strangers who all encountered one another in inopportune moments of our lives.
there is no real way to say this but in the process of what we think we do for others, we save and redeem ourselves.
something at my core has so fundamentally shifted and i have all the families, their pain, their trust, and their generosity to thank for - for the honour and privilege of being privy to their intimate lives, to be able to hope and toil alongside them for a way to make life more livable.
there is no easy way to say goodbye
as i prepared him for the hearing, i looked at his firm stoic glazed gaze, and choked back on a sob. to love against your instincts is such a reckoning.
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