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wished-bone

wished bone

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wished-bone · 2 months

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Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire. The reality of your own nature should determine the speed. If you become restless, speed up. If you become winded, slow down. You climb the mountain in the equilibrium between restlessness and exhaustion. Then, when you’re no longer thinking ahead, each footstep isn’t just a means to an end but a unique event in itself. This leaf has jagged edges. This rock looks loose.

From this place the snow is less visible, even though closer. These are things you should notice anyway. To live only for some future goal is shallow. It’s the sides of the mountain which sustain life, not the top. Here’s where things grow. But of course, without the top you can’t have any sides. It’s the top that defines the sides. So on we go… we have a long way… no hurry… just one step after the next.

-ROBERT M. PIRSIG (Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance)

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wished-bone · 2 months

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what if instead of starting from darkness and discovering light, we were first all light and wanted to try darkness

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wished-bone · 2 months

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Alone

The noon's greygolden meshes make All night a veil, The shorelamps in the sleeping lake Laburnum tendrils trail. The sly reeds whisper to the night A name-- her name- And all my soul is a delight, A swoon of shame.

James Joyce

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wished-bone · 2 months

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Passing Through

—on my seventy-ninth birthday Nobody in the widow’s household ever celebrated anniversaries. In the secrecy of my room I would not admit I cared that my friends were given parties. Before I left town for school my birthday went up in smoke in a fire at City Hall that gutted the Department of Vital Statistics. If it weren’t for a census report of a five-year-old White Male sharing my mother’s address at the Green Street tenement in Worcester I’d have no documentary proof that I exist. You are the first, my dear, to bully me into these festive occasions. Sometimes, you say, I wear an abstracted look that drives you up the wall, as though it signified distress or disaffection. Don’t take it so to heart. Maybe I enjoy not-being as much as being who I am. Maybe it’s time for me to practice growing old. The way I look at it, I’m passing through a phase: gradually I’m changing to a word. Whatever you choose to claim of me is always yours; nothing is truly mine except my name. I only borrowed this dust. -Stanley Kunitz

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wished-bone · 2 months

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