not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

between the trees



there is something in between the trees. and i don't mean in between each individual pine, or between the pine and the tamarack.  i mean there is a place between the tree and itself being the tree, that i recognize from a timeless self, a self so young i don't know time yet.  i recognize this place.  it speaks out from my chest.  and it speaks inwardly, as well.  driving through the forest i hear this voice.

6 comments:

  1. between the trees is where you live dear erin.
    between the trees is where your heart resides.

    beautiful piece.

    ~robert

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  2. forests have a similar effect on me. i tend to feel a pull, like a hand reaching our, some fairy-tale energy....

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  3. erin,
    This is an endless picture...and it clearly speaks more inwardly than it would to us...but we hear whispers...and they are intoxicating....beautiful....

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  4. beyond beautiful.

    "Then I may hope that my page will possess a sonority that will ring true - a voice so remote within me, that it will be the voice we all hear when we listen as far back as memory reaches, on the very limits of memory, beyond memory perhaps, in the field of the immemorial. All we communicate to others is an orientation towards what is secret."

    Bachelard

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  5. robert, we have shared these trees. i hope they still speak to you. i remember the ridges in cape breton. they've a different intonation there, those trees, deep and old, carrying different histories.

    monica, it is real though, isn't it?

    manik, it's always incredible to me, these voices which find us. how do we ever feel alone?

    roxana, what a generous confirmation.

    while looking into bachelard i find him quoting rilke: “Rilke wrote: 'These trees are magnificent, but even more magnificent is the sublime and moving space between them, as though with their growth it too increased.”

    i feel rather blessed that i have been turned out into this world with these feelings.

    xo
    erin

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  6. something before language
    very close to being
    it calls
    and i am glad you answer

    (but how could you not?)

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"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))