“We do not want merely to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words — to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.”
You never needed any reason to be loved extravagantly. Extraordinarily. In vast varieties. You only ever needed to settle into your being. You were always here. It’s only ever been you.
“I adore the struggle you carry in yourself. I adore your terrifying sincerity.”
“We may seem to forget a person, a place, a state of being, a past life, but meanwhile what we are doing is selecting new actors, seeking the closest reproduction to the friend, the lover, the husband we are trying to forget, in order to re-enact the drama with understudies. And one day we open our eyes and there we are, repeating the same story. How could it be otherwise? The design comes from within us. It is internal. It is what the old mystics described as karma, repeated until the spiritual or emotional experience was understood, liquidated, achieved.”
“The physical as a symbol of the spiritual world. The people who keep old rags, old useless objects, who hoard, accumulate: are they also keepers and hoarders of old ideas, useless information, lovers of the past only, even in its form of detritus?…I have the opposite obsession. In order to change skins, evolve into new cycles, I feel one has to learn to discard. If one changes internally, one should not continue to live with the same objects. They reflect one’s mind and psyche of yesterday. I throw away what has no dynamic, living use. I keep nothing to remind me of the passage of time, deterioration, loss, shriveling.” -Anais Nin
I would show you the contents of my pockets. If I knew them myself. I’d lay my words exposed, if they came out in clear sentences. I’d lead you back home, if I remembered all the turns. I’d usher you through my front door, and sit you down at the table.
I’d pour you a cup of tea and sit mesmerized by the sliver of sunlight on the wooden surface between us. Silence would sit there, welcomed and safe. Your palm would grab the curve of your mug, my arms would sit heavy in my lap. You would stare at me attentively, patient. Stilled.
I’d sense your curiosity, and still leave it starving. My pulse would remain even. I wouldn’t meet your eyes.
The sliver of light would keep me entranced. Distracted. Distant.
I didn’t want something I could hold onto forever. I preferred only to be seen. If only for a little while. To know the soft landing of a gaze who knows.
It dissipates almost as quickly as it begins. In a mere moment. When it comes, you cannot miss it, even amidst the attempts. Because there will be many.
To carry fiercely. To release generously.
“At sixteen, Sabina took moon baths, first of all, because everyone else took sun baths, and second, she admitted, because she had been told it was dangerous.” -Anais Nin
June 10th, 2018
“I take pleasure in my transformations. I look quiet and consistent, but few know how many women there are in me.”
“Something is always born of excess: great art was born of great terror, great loneliness, great inhibitions, instabilities, and it always balances them.”
“We are going to the moon that is not very far. Man has so much farther to go within himself.”
“I love your silences, they are like mine. You are the only being before whom I am not distressed by my own silences. You have a vehement silence, one feels it is charged with essences, it is a strangely alive silence, like a trap open over a well, from which one can hear the secret murmur of the earth itself.”
“Again I take a taxi to Clichy address, but feel that I do not want to go on loving Henry more actively than he loves me (having realized that nobody will ever love me in that overabundant, overexpressive, overthoughtful, overhuman way I love people), and so I will wait for him. So I ask taxi driver to drop me at the Galeries Lafayette, where I begin to look for a new hat and to shop for Christmas. Pride? I don’t know. A kind of wise retreat. I need people too much. So I bury my gigantic defect, my overflow of love, under trivialities, like a child. I amuse myself with a new hat.”
“I only feel close to people who arouse my energy, who make enormous demands of me, who are capable of enriching me with experience, pain, people who do not doubt my courage, or my toughness. People who do not believe me naive or innocent, but who challenge my keenest wisdom, who have the courage to treat me like a woman in spite of the fact that they are aware of my vulnerability.”
“There is a perfection in everything that cannot be owned,”