I do not want this. With every fiber of my being, I do not want to be here. The heat. The ants. The fucking gravestone that I refuse to maintain. I never bring flowers. I shouldn’t have to. I should not have to come here. For fuck’s sake. It’s hot and humid today; the marble … Continue reading Catalysts are made to be burned.
The Tempest. J.W. Waterhouse / 1916 How do we learn to be still? To allow people the grace to ebb and flow around us without reacting to their emotional whirlpools, their tempests, or their doldrums? Don’t look at me — I have no idea. I am a reactor. I become a tempest in response to … Continue reading This wave.
And they were behind us, reflected in the pool. “The surface glittered out of heart of light,And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.Go, go, go, said the bird: human kindCannot bear very … Continue reading And let my cry come unto thee.
Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden, Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood Teach us to care and not to care Teach us to sit stillTS Eliot, Ash Wednesday Saint Eulalia, John William Waterhouse. This isn't the passage I'd initially planned on using, but there's a beauty to … Continue reading Teach us to care and not to care
The dripping blood our only drink,The bloody flesh our only food:In spite of which we like to thinkThat we are sound, substantial flesh and blood—Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.TS Eliot, East Coker When I was about eight, I fled our Good Friday service in tears. It was a shared service … Continue reading Sovegna vos.