I never know what's going to get me moving. . . what winds will blow through me, what breath will fill me to overflowing a little here on this electronic page.
This morning, I experimented (via Sukipoet's blog) with posting a little recording here (and subsequently deleted it), after creating a youthful cartoon version of myself (though her hair is grey, like mine now) using Voki.
Having begun reading ANAM CARA, A BOOK OF CELTIC WISDOM by John O'Donohue, I was revisited by my young self that tends to hold closely and dearly to books and music that my heart finds so true that it feels they came from me, somehow. It's a kind of fearsome and fearful feeling in which I am both overly protective of a kind of dearness I feel toward the (in this instance) book (and thus am almost afraid to read it, for fear of losing this sense too soon) while at the same time I feel almost evangelical toward sharing its beauty.
Holding close, letting go. . . this ever-turning cycle of living.
This morning, I experimented (via Sukipoet's blog) with posting a little recording here (and subsequently deleted it), after creating a youthful cartoon version of myself (though her hair is grey, like mine now) using Voki.
Having begun reading ANAM CARA, A BOOK OF CELTIC WISDOM by John O'Donohue, I was revisited by my young self that tends to hold closely and dearly to books and music that my heart finds so true that it feels they came from me, somehow. It's a kind of fearsome and fearful feeling in which I am both overly protective of a kind of dearness I feel toward the (in this instance) book (and thus am almost afraid to read it, for fear of losing this sense too soon) while at the same time I feel almost evangelical toward sharing its beauty.
Holding close, letting go. . . this ever-turning cycle of living.
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| Ouroboros |
