I feel oneness in the first two couplets. Then I am annihilated in the third.I don't know what it means, to you the writer. To me it means (does it have to mean?) we can dissolve into this best moment and feel it ... and then we try to express it, and fail miserably again and again, missing the head.
ruth, i removed the third bit in spite of believing in it. it felt superfluous on rereading it, as though there was too much of me in it. i think too that i was repulsed by me in that you so kindly (i believe this, kindly) referred to the writer in me. it was a strange reaction but deeply felt. of course anyone who writes anything would be the writer, but writer as any sort of title caused me to feel like a sham. i know this was not caused by any intention from you but only on my end as the receiver of such a notion. i am no writer. i am only a woman blundering through and can not take myself too seriously.all that said (and i hold your hand as i say it) what did i mean? what i meant was real enough for me. there are moments in my life in which i feel absolute blessedness. they are as simple and ordinary as this moment was, noticing the light on the hangers. my god, the hangers that belonged to geraldine elshire, that lived their life beside her and that now hang in a closet that i own! and light, new light crosses them! and i get to witness this?! i can't imagine how i am granted such things. how often in my life i am granted such things, sunlight on flesh, the curve of my children's lips, the fingertips of my lover on my back or his laugh as it breaks in pure happiness (pure unaffected and simple happiness), the knowledge in the moment of being here. there is nothing to hold those moments. they dissolve as we note them. that is what i meant:) they are so malleable, so fluidly composed that there is nothing solid to hold them to.i had removed the post feeling that i had somehow contaminated the page. (perhaps i am ridiculous. it is, after all, my page to begin with.) but i put it back as this moment of light on the hangers was real.oh, such complications around something to simple. apparently i do take myself rather seriously:)love))))xoerin
"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))