autumnal reflection
less colors on the palate today,
or else they just don't grab me.
I always liked the word "Daunting", "daunting task" or a "daunting climb". It evokes pain through which triumph might be won.
Everyone knows the word but one feels awkward saying or typing it, as if the proper usage is slowly slipping from the vernacular, as are so many others.
I climbed down and then up a daunting gorge the other day. Trickles of water and decaying leaves, random toads and late autumn blossoms. Everything, philosophy, is just so much easier from that vantage among the dynamic yet inexorable natural processes in a forest.
The same inexorable processes govern me too, but if I have access to them it is usually only to hide them again. One must make an effort, after all, to pretend that each action is a willed action.
I am alienated from my own desire again. Nothing is sexy. The nights are cool and have blown out my embers.
I long for one last end of summer storm to hold on to until May.
Maybe April now that I'm further south.
I was thinking about the north and the south today- Gaul and Greece into stalwart Dutch and German protestantism, "Simple Gifts" work ethic. Spanish and French romantic Catholicism, the passion of the Christ. Northeastern Presbetyrians and Lutherans, descendants of the aforementioned Krauts and the Southern Baptist evangelists...
the shitty pro-lifers that I have invaded down here.
I'm caught between them,
these opposing seasons
Winter and Summer.
I don't know what I want.
or else they just don't grab me.
I always liked the word "Daunting", "daunting task" or a "daunting climb". It evokes pain through which triumph might be won.
Everyone knows the word but one feels awkward saying or typing it, as if the proper usage is slowly slipping from the vernacular, as are so many others.
I climbed down and then up a daunting gorge the other day. Trickles of water and decaying leaves, random toads and late autumn blossoms. Everything, philosophy, is just so much easier from that vantage among the dynamic yet inexorable natural processes in a forest.
The same inexorable processes govern me too, but if I have access to them it is usually only to hide them again. One must make an effort, after all, to pretend that each action is a willed action.
I am alienated from my own desire again. Nothing is sexy. The nights are cool and have blown out my embers.
I long for one last end of summer storm to hold on to until May.
Maybe April now that I'm further south.
I was thinking about the north and the south today- Gaul and Greece into stalwart Dutch and German protestantism, "Simple Gifts" work ethic. Spanish and French romantic Catholicism, the passion of the Christ. Northeastern Presbetyrians and Lutherans, descendants of the aforementioned Krauts and the Southern Baptist evangelists...
the shitty pro-lifers that I have invaded down here.
I'm caught between them,
these opposing seasons
Winter and Summer.
I don't know what I want.