August 26, 2004
pauses
I'm not quite sure what to make of the daily attempts at language, save that in the midst of worrying over class loads, I find myself thinking still about the cape of good hope. what is that but.
I am always surprised by that moment when space is cleared, and other goals start to take shape. So that with the advent of the ability to throw thin pots...I no longer set the goal of learning that skill on a saturday, and what is left is space to try out different kinds of thrown objects. Pitchers this week. When batts arrive, plates. cups. bowls. etc. that steady work towards functional this semester. but also, the skills that move beyond functional...
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and when those are done?
or in that space of worry over africa. suddenly room. no longer that same thirty year old holding on. to something lost. and the room. the space. that wide expanse. i think i'm fascinated by the moments when our duties as people who must carry are revealed to us. what we are to carry, how we are to manage. that moment when we realize that the other's grief wasn't alleviated through whatever tactic, and now we will carry the marks of that loss. we will grieve too, for as long as is expected...or until we can untangle ourselves, find a way to carry our own grief. or....to move into that space without Mr. Ramsey. without his "we all perish each alone" grief roaming, seeking someone on which to hang. both Take this grief please. hold it for me. and hang. as in noose, as in let me die in your arms, you will need to watch my sorrow, you won't be able to do anything about it, but i will findi t somehow appropriate to make you watch...curious, no?