?

Log in

No account? Create an account

I Stay, I Go

History

17th June 2002

9:11am: "What is going on behind the door?"

"A book is shedding it's leaves."

"What is the story of the book?"

"Becoming aware of a scream."


~The Book of Questions.

Has anyone heard of this book by Edmond Jabes? I've just ordered it from the library since these few lines make it look so delicious.... Well, I had a wee bit more to go on. Paul Auster speaks of it in his book 'The Art of Hunger'. Mmmmm, I looooove that title.

Has anyone read either?
11:47am: Spent most of the week-end out on Vashon Island. First went to a party at Geoff's dubbed 'World Drumming'. I think he did that so us Malinke drummers wouldn't try and overrun the place, heh. And, gratefully, we didn't. The highest moments for me, surprisingly, had nothing to do with the Malinke rhythms. They were things like:

Watching Lance beam as he honky-tonked on a piano that Geoff has in his kitchen(!)(Jeeesh I didn't even know he played!)

Playing a crazy shaker part with Mel for some Samba reggae. Every time we looked at each other we burst out laughing and I honestly have no idea why- but it was wonderful!

When we all quietly mingled our voices in song and free-style chanting to the soothing sounds of an mbira.

Saving a swarm of ants from being crushed by a plate of strawberrys and sliced mango. (It's the little things people!)

Watching Peter watch Xti watch Geoff watch Carol.

The sun on my skin!!!!!

Having a yellow furry caterpillar tumble into my lap.

Watching Tim beam as he massaged Junko's back, his 9mos. pregnant & weary wife.



At around 11 pm, we Malinkes caravanned over to Levin's where we played & sang around the fire in the woods until the sky turned dark periwinkle warning us of dusk. I pitched a tent behind the yurt so that the first and only things I'd see when I unzipped my cocoon in the morning were beauteous ferns and trees as far as the eyes could see. I just lay there looking out all full of gratitude and yearning, wishing it never had to end and thinking how different I would be living out here in the forest. How much more connected and grounded I would be. This living in concrete and metal isn't for me at all. It puts me to sleep to who I am.

forest

When we get out of the glass bottles of
our ego,

and when we escape like squirrels
turning in the cages of
our personality

and get into the forests again,

we shall shiver with cold and fright

but things will happen to us

so that we don't know ourselves.

Cool, unlying life will rush in,

and passion will make our bodies taut
with power,

we shall stamp our feet with new power

and old things will fall down,

we shall laugh, and institutions will curl
up like burnt paper.

~D.H. Lawrence.
2:38pm: I feel like I am always gestating.

It is taking a lot to birth a whole me.

Or to unbirth, as it were.
Powered by LiveJournal.com