More love, more real: a history of feelings

"One day my father laughed and corrected me. Everything snapped into focus. It's one of those unforgettable moments that happen as a child, when you discover that all along the world as been betraying you."

"Just as there was a first instant when someone rubbed two sticks together to make a spark, there was a first time joy was felt, and a first time for sadness. For a while, new feelings were being invented all the time. Desire was born early, as was regret. When stubbornes was felt for the first time, it started a chain reaction, creating the feeling of resentment on the one hand, and alienation on the other. It might have been a cirtain counterclockwise movement of the hips that marked the birth of ecstasy; a bolt of lightning that caused the first feeling of awe. Contrary to logic, the feeling of surprise wasn't born immediately. It only came after people had enough time to get used to things as they were. And when enough time HAD passed, and someone felt the first feeling of surprise, someone, somewhere else, felt the first pang of nostalgia.

It's also true that sometimes people felt things, and, because there was no word for them, they were unmentioned. The oldest emotion in the world may be that of being moved; but to describe it-just to name it - must have been like trying to catch something invisible.

(Then again, the oldest feeling in the world might simply have been confusion).

Having begun to feel, people's desire to feel grew. They wanted to feel more, feel deeper, despite how much it sometimes hurt. People become addicted to feeling. They struggled to uncover new emotions. It's possible that this is how art was born.
New kinds of joy were forged, along with new kinds of sadness. The eternal dissapointment of life as it is; the relief of unexpected reprieve, the fear of dying.

Even now, all possible feelings do not exist. There are still those that lie beyond our capacity and our imagination."

Objectification

I don't mean just physically.

" You tell me that you are in love with a beautiful woman, but when I ask you, ' What is the color her eyes? What is her name? What is the name of her town? you cannot tell me. I don't believe you are really in love with something real.' Your notion of God may be vague like that, not having to do with reality.
Thich Nhat Hanh

Reading Julian of Norwich in the morning

God is the ground and the substance, the very essence of nature;
God is the true father and mother of natures.
We are all bound to God by nature,
and we are all bound to God by grace.
And this grace is for all the world,
Because it is our precious mother, Christ.
For this fair nature was prepared by Christ
For the honor and nobility of all,
and for the joy and bliss of salvation.

Steps....

Growing up is so hard these days; I'm taking solace in those writers who revel in that in-between growthness -- even though there may be a wallowing in the mire of co-dependency and coping mechanisms. Whatever.


Steps
FRANK O’HARA

How funny you are today New York
like Ginger Rogers in Swingtime
and St. Bridget’s steeple leaning a little to the left

here I have just jumped out of a bed full of V-days
(I got tired of D-days) and blue you there still
accepts me foolish and free
all I want is a room up there
and you in it
and even the traffic halt so thick is a way
for people to rub up against each other
and when their surgical appliances lock
they stay together
for the rest of the day (what a day)
I go by to check a slide and I say
that painting’s not so blue

where’s Lana Turner
she’s out eating
and Garbo’s backstage at the Met
everyone’s taking their coat off
so they can show a rib-cage to the rib-watchers
and the park’s full of dancers with their tights and shoes
in little bags
who are often mistaken for worker-outers at the West Side Y
why not
the Pittsburgh Pirates shout because they won
and in a sense we’re all winning
we’re alive

the apartment was vacated by a gay couple
who moved to the country for fun
they moved a day too soon
even the stabbings are helping the population explosion
though in the wrong country
and all those liars have left the UN
the Seagram Building’s no longer rivalled in interest
not that we need liquor (we just like it)

and the little box is out on the sidewalk
next to the delicatessen
so the old man can sit on it and drink beer
and get knocked off it by his wife later in the day
while the sun is still shining

oh god it’s wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much

Baja and Poems

I've corresponded with a poet I met in Baja. I met her almost 10 years ago. Her words sometimes floor me. Today I received a poem in the mail:


But is it this: that the ocean is blue,
very blue
and the fishes,
aren't they pretty creatures?
So wear the ocean, I say,
because I can't change the facts.
Paula Yup


I love snorkeling. Although I didn't do that today, I do feel that I wore the very blue ocean.

I hear my ancestors whisper...

Great Grandmother