21 September 2013
Things I did today:
- Cleaned my office; swept and mopped the floors
- Assembled boxes that would hide a lot of my clutter
- Studied Emily Dickinson’s The Brain, within its Groove; took notes all afternoon
- Wrote a letter to S. who is currently in India; looked and marveled at the photos he took
- Had coffee with my sisters and father
- Read more letters from people who have recently lost someone in their lives
Things running through my mind:
- I wondered if I would be happy if I was dust. I wondered if the dust itself is happy, being what it is. I wondered if it feels powerful, to be everywhere at once, or if it’s sad to be so scattered, to not have a form, to not be in one place.
- Why am I unable to look at my mess in the face? Why must I be so unsettled about it? Why does it make me feel like I have accomplished nothing, when a part of me believes that a mess is important, because it is proof that one is living a life?
- I should be asking questions; I shouldn’t be taking notes. But what can I say that hasn’t been said before? I worry that I am falling far behind. I tried reasoning with myself that I could always jump lessons, fast forward to Week 3 if I wanted. A big part of me rejects this, is anxious at the idea that I’m not following the lectures in order, that I am missing out on a lot of things if I didn’t read what others are writing about the poem. It’s enough to drive me mad, but only because everything is important to me.
- The Adalaj Stepwell was breathtaking. How must it feel like, standing inside of that structure, being bathed with light. Someday I will go there.
- This is my favourite part of the day, sitting on the table, a warm mug in my hand, laughing. How many people are having the same moment, all over the world?
- How grief is a wound that reopens
Oh, the coming-out-of-nowhere moment
maybe half a moment
the rush of traffic stops.
The whir of I should be, I should be, I should be
slows to silence,
the white cotton curtains hanging still.