(no subject)
I've a gigantic Golden Delicious, a very delicate pink cup of ginger peach tea, and a mostly-gone can of diet cola.
Perhaps the reason working without food and drink is so unappealing to me (bah on the library) is that I'm so aware of all of my senses, and affected by them, while I write. The climate and chair and clothing, taste, scent, music, visual horizon--it all matters. Does that make any sense?
So many people today have commented on the faerie trees all over town this morning--the millions of white-covered bitty branches reaching in all directions, stark and beautiful against watery blue sky. Of course the sun has melted most of this magic, but isn't it lovely that so very many people notice the trees? I wonder if God is happy for so many compliments.
I also think it's interesting that the stunning sights we see juxtapose themselves all over the place in the most unusual ways. The weather one sees beyond a window while one receives bad news via telephone is always so very significant: fitting, if it's storming, or ironic if it's placid, or painful if it's pretty. Regardless of what exactly the weather is, we relate it to our emotional experience in some way. In this sense, we are creatures craving meaning, and so we make it, over and over, piecing together stories to make sense of our lives.
Today the sun shines and reflects off of snow, laughing at my wish for sleepy dark.
Perhaps the reason working without food and drink is so unappealing to me (bah on the library) is that I'm so aware of all of my senses, and affected by them, while I write. The climate and chair and clothing, taste, scent, music, visual horizon--it all matters. Does that make any sense?
So many people today have commented on the faerie trees all over town this morning--the millions of white-covered bitty branches reaching in all directions, stark and beautiful against watery blue sky. Of course the sun has melted most of this magic, but isn't it lovely that so very many people notice the trees? I wonder if God is happy for so many compliments.
I also think it's interesting that the stunning sights we see juxtapose themselves all over the place in the most unusual ways. The weather one sees beyond a window while one receives bad news via telephone is always so very significant: fitting, if it's storming, or ironic if it's placid, or painful if it's pretty. Regardless of what exactly the weather is, we relate it to our emotional experience in some way. In this sense, we are creatures craving meaning, and so we make it, over and over, piecing together stories to make sense of our lives.
Today the sun shines and reflects off of snow, laughing at my wish for sleepy dark.