Coming to terms: a journal in parts

"I choose a color and it connotes sadness./ But how long must the symbols remain true? Blue/ is blue, not lonely. After a time, one gives up/ reading the sky for shadows, even rain./ There is no promise, only a possibility./ A moment moves to another, and still it feels/ the same./ -Joel Toledo, "Attachments" ************************************************** *The awareness--or belief, if you will--that everything is transitory: is it a blessing or a curse? This lack of faith in the faithfulness of things lends a cynicism that, yes, gets shaken from time to time, yet stays, always rooted, a habit of years that veers the heart away from believing that there is value in the things that one does, in the people one has known and knows. The mind trembles under the very sun of hope. Despair is a constant. It is one yardstick with which existence is measured. Happiness becomes a stranger whom one welcomes but does not allow too close, because parting is always imminent, parting must be inevitable.

Coming to terms: a journal in parts

This preoccupation with loss. This fear of what the next moment will have in its hands, or already does. Ah, my mind. What are we to do? That I could restrain you within this small space: these quotidian-smeared walls, this dusty floor, these narrow stairs, this endless day-to-day. That I could pull you back from your stubborn forays into the great unknowns, bigger than you could comprehend, deeper than you could fathom. Why do you stray so? You venture out with the very things that taunt you, the very spaces that house your fears. Why do you insist? What is the sense in this persistence? Stay, stay, stay. Stay and be safe. Be safe.

From Proust

"But how? What an abyss of uncertainty whenever the mind feels that some part of it has strayed beyond its own borders; whenever it, the seeker, is at once the dark region through which it must go seeking, where all its equipment will avail nothing. Seek? More than that: create. It is face to face with something which does not so far exist, to which it alone can give reality and substance, which it alone can bring into the light of day."" --Marcel, Swann's Way