Christ, it felt like forever getting all my blog data merged over, but I think it was worth it. I like this Wix format a lot better. There is a subscribe button here, which I did not have at Weebly. For those of you that asked, now you have it.
Anyhow, It’s been a cool 55 here in Eastern KY today. The leaves are changing quickly, and everything is dying out, but it’s all so gorgeous too. It reminds me that there is beauty in all deaths I think. Fall shows us just how exquisite the act of death can be. As the sun moves lower into the bed of the sky, the earths life-force buries itself into its roots. Each leaf and plant, that has lived its own lifetime and season, faces the sun and in a single burst of color or flame, dies. The hues of the sunset demand out attention with the ember, ocher, and flames. The maple and oak set themselves on fire in this light, and ask us to be a part of their ritual of death. When we let things go, or when things die, we are just making space for something beautiful and new.
This is some dead Ironweed on my property. It is so pretty in late summer, in all its deep purple glory, and is so brown in its death in late Fall. But the mountains behind it, well they prove that Fall is the most beautiful time of year in these Appalachian Mountains.
How has your weekend been? Mine has been pretty great. I have spent my weekend hoarded up in Sheila’s book and watching The Xfiles. I love this weather, and the fact that sports are over and I can really just chill after work. I was thinking today about how much I miss Sheila, and how even though she is back in KY now, she still is so far away. I wish she lived closer so we could see each other more, like we used to when we worked together.
I knew when I met her that she was going to be my best friend for life, but I had no idea how much I would come to rely on her for so many things now. I need to talk to her to even take a breathe sometimes; on the days that it feels like I have been holding my breath all day. On bad days, I park and talk to her until I feel normal again, and then I am okay. On the good days, she is one of the very few people that I want to tell the good things to. It is a very hard thing, this needing people. I wish I needed things sometimes, instead of people. It would make life some much more simple.
I was reading Walt Whitman’s So Long, tonight, and I thought how dangerous it must have been, and how secretive it must have felt, and how wonderful that it was for him to finally kiss a man. Not just in general, but in the 1850’s. How exciting, and how depressing that all this excitement fades like the seasons, for all of us. How do you maintain it? I wonder how you know if your desires are natural or just something that emerged in your gut? Is it something swift, or something that if you die doing it, you will have died happy? I wonder if he thought of the kiss as elusive, or was it the kiss of the Gods; or would he ever kiss someone like that again?
It is I you hold, and who holds you;
I spring from the pages into your arms—decease calls me forth.
O how your fingers drowse me!
Your breath falls around me like dew—your pulse lulls the tympans of my ears;
I feel immerged from head to foot;
Enough, O deed impromptu and secret!
Enough, O gliding present! Enough, O summ’d-up past!
Dear friend, whoever you are, take this kiss,
I give it especially to you—Do not forget me;
I feel like one who has done work for the day, to retire awhile;
I receive now again of my many translations—from my avataras ascending—while others doubtless await me;
An unknown sphere, more real than I dream’d, more direct, darts awakening rays about me—So long!
Remember my words—I may again return,
I love you—I depart from materials;
I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead.
-Whitman, So Long
I’m off to the stars my friends.