the morning after

July 05, 2008 Candace Morris 1 Comments

joel and i meander about this morning (eeks, it's 12:30 and we've only been up for 1.5 hrs) with achy necks, foggy heads, and lazy prospects for our saturday. this is not due to copious amount of alcohol consumed last night, but instead by some yoga in the park and a rather smoky "patio log." we had a happy 4th indeed, albeit mellow and enchanting.

here are the pictures to boast of our humble and relaxing party:
fourth of july 08

speaking of enchanting, i can't get this out of my head: i saw it this morning while perusing etsy and i am just resting in its meaning, finding inspiration in the romantic flow of her skirts

in the listing, the photographer included the most beautiful quote, and then - dears - i felt it MUST be meant for me because this lovely quote was from my dearest and most cherished Russian (of this century-or rather, last century), Vladmir Nabakov.
The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous
feeling of the words being there,written in invisible ink,
and clamoring to become visible.

~Nabokov ~
and at these words, i ache and pine to write write write.

speking of writing! (oh golly! i almost forgot to tell you!) yesterday, while joelio and i were at Half Price Books selling our VHS collection (we made $6.96 off of 50 tapes, ah!), i found the most moving and soul-gripping litle book.

it's a independently published book entitled Fight, Flight, Surrender by brett dean mcgibbon.I was intrigued by the cover, "a journal-novel from new york to alaska and back again" and opened it and almost fainted from heart- piercing wordlings that already resided in my soul.

only they didn't know it.
i read a rather long passage, and will include it here.

(after many minutes spent exclusively with this book, joelio insisted i buy this instead of the BLAKE poems (norton anthology, swoooon) that i had in my arms. so i did.)

i will be including this in many more posts to come.

there comes a time in life when you realize
either because the walls were too close and obvious or you've
had a taste of freedom - that you're in a cage -
no less sad and pitiful than the wolves
grizzlies in cages - artificial walls, boundaries, limits,
directions to take yourself - put there by some person else
and your wings are clipped
and the short seventy years you're allowed is too long to go
without ever flying-
and some men take off to sea - maybe on a fishing boat-
and everything that's good about you magically
finds a spot among the waves and mountains and the wind...... ...

spend your time like a bird with no

knowledge of flight but feeling something
else, more - must be out there - to being

thrown into the middle of the real game
the game of nothing - just being - not
searching or longing - but being - Flying-

Fly little bird - Fly great Eagle and Gull-

do what you have to do and someday
be devoured - i will join you.

i am undone by these thoughts.
i am moved to write yet again.

and today i have little else to do but to finish the A&E version of Pride and Prejudice, grocery shop for the camping trip, and read this new book.

I can do these things with these thoughts under my wings, forcing my heart to give them flight.

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