Yesterday I enjoyed a cup of coffee at a place I love on the bay. I was sitting there looking out when I remembered that a friend of mine who lives on one of the houseboats lost her son to illness recently. I sat there, trying to imagine how one lives with such pain.
I was looking back through journals of August of 2000, and I saw that August, then, was a tender time for me. It seems to be the time of year when petals fall and I feel myself as a naked seed. Then, September rolls in and I revel in the shift toward fall.
Here are some quotes singing to me today.
Here’s the new rule: Break the wineglass and fall toward the Glassblower’s breath.
I reached that place inside me where the world is breathing.
I went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in.
I am aware of the date. It is a memorial day.
Evil, do I say?
But speak not evil of the evil:
Evil and good they braided play
Into one cord.
-- Herman Melville, Claret, IV, iv.