morning pages by the sea: 26 july

I don’t want something to happen and me to suddenly have all mornings to myself.

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perhaps it’s true that each illness is a messenger and we kill it before we hear the message (hmm.. or it kills us).

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the body isn’t just a package. it’s the avatar of our soul. its earthly shell. it has to be transparent. the soul must shine through it. it has to be something felt, asked, loved.

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I need to take my soul out to the shallows of my body, somewhere just underneath the skin (which is somewhat transparent, isn’t it?) it’s not its job to shine in the dark as one of those wondrous fish from the sea depths. a firefly against an impenetrable darkness. […] I keep the warmth of a single match to myself instead of facing it outwards and lighting a fire with it for the warmth of all.

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I’ve never seen a tentative, even a bit of a cool fire as the one within me. a fire that’s awaiting. a fire that’s not even rushing to destroy everything around it anymore. a quiet god with a horrible power who’s losing his trust in me waking him up.

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I’m going to catch the sparks in my skirt so that they don’t set the world on fire. I’m going to offer them to it [carefully] like fruit freshly picked from a tree.

(Photo from here.)

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