Tuesday, January 5, 2010


In the absence of painting this week, i have been meditating each day and some days I sit in front of the ancient typewriter and type some words afterward. Here are today's words:

January 5, 2010

There is a new layer on this onion
an additional dimension
we didn’t see before,
a new earth in the palm of our hands.
Think of it like this:
there is a book you are reading,
and in this book there is a story,
and in this story is another story,
and in this other story is a key.
This key can unlock the first story,
and it, the first story, will open and fall away
it is as if, while being read, pages are vanishing,
and the story is the only thing that keeps on going
yet it leaves no trace.
The story is alive. The story is a life. The story is only now.
And now is the only story.
Anything else is folly.
Looking back serves only to repeat, write again same story
wouldn’t a new story - a now story - be better?

there is energy here to enliven whatsoever you choose as focus
choose well. wake up. keep turning the pages, to keep the story


Brooks said...

Yet sometimes when I turn the page there is nothing there. It that the true story.
Thank you for your writings.

Laurence Holden said...

And your beautiful words make m think of something the poet Rilke wrote about the story going on:

From A Book for the Hours of Prayer


"My life is not this steeply sloping hour,
in which you see me hurrying.
Much stands behind me; I stand before it like a tree;
I am only one of my many mouths,
and at that, the one that will be still the soonest.

I am the rest between two notes,
which are somehow always in discord
because Death’s note wants to climb over-
but in the dark interval,reconciled,
they stay there trembling.

And the song goes on, beautiful."

p. 31, Selected Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke, (1979) trans. by Robert Bly

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