Skip to main content

Fairy tale life

I am so tired, so tired, of eating, sleeping. I think of Hemingway's Old Man, who was so tired of living that he no longer ate. My body is hungry, but my soul is not, it is a not wanting that is not contentment. To want is to live.

I am writing every day. I am filling in passages of Winter Light I did not feel like writing years ago. I left empty spaces. Well, creativity and discipline do not always go hand in hand, and I can forgive her for leaving me the hard stuff to write when I remember how glorious it felt to stay late in my room with a little light burning, with as little understanding of the science studies that fill my days as now, writing the dramatic scenes that delineated Winter Light.

I am writing a little every day as I revise. Perhaps half a page.

I have found little interesting reading lately. I have tried many things, but nothing occupies me for long. I feel some small passion for The Mysteries of Udolpho, but nothing else worth mentioning.

I tried earlier this week to start a poem. I am sort of thinking about what I can contribute, my own vision of happiness. I am most complete when I forget myself, when I am no longer male or female, or human, when I am air and trees and light. I thought of describing the practice of this forgetting, this being. In this forgetfulness, there is no more conflict, envy, loathing, resentment, fear. There is only love.

I have thought in my more alert moments about how to exist in enchanted beauty in my sometimes narrow and troubled life. My greatest struggle I would say is sleep. Not wanting to. Hating to, in fact.

I have created some visualizations or incantations to help. Telling myself I will look better in the morning if I sleep more isn't enough. Sleep is enshrouded in fairy tales, and I wrap myself in those dreams when I close my eyes. I also finally have a perfect soft teddy bear that I stuffed myself, from Pirate Coffee Shop.

I have noticed, my sleep is increasingly troubled, and I wonder if it is one of the struggles I will face with age. We all wonder where aging will take us. I only hope I can be brave and face challenges, and learn to better express my visions of beauty and truth.

Popular posts from this blog

The secret to a happy home

I finished Marion Harland's guide tonight and I wonder ceaselessly at two things. 1. She is so down on America! Even more than I am. She complains of things in which I am so well-steeped I could not see them for what they were. In particular, American style and cookery. It is true that our food, which we count as so much more generous in portion than the overseas counterpart, is as coarse and indecorous as it is plentiful, but as an American woman I cast up my hands and declare I would rather spend my time on something else. She makes an interesting point about American women's fashions. In France women wear what looks good on them, and in America women wears what comes off the manufacturing line in the latest style. It is very conformist, and I have to admit I feel it in myself, for I would be embarrassed to wear something that is "out" even if it flattered me better. 2. Harland's other point I feel clearly from last night's experiences. I looked in my journ...

Helen Keller

Reading this Women of Influence book is causing me to remember another of my great childhood loves -- "The Miracle Worker," the story of Anne Sullivan and Helen Keller. It was Anne Sullivan I really loved, and still love -- it always made me heartsick to think of her sacrifice, devoting every waking minute to another human being, with almost no life left to herself, until she died in old age, and Helen Keller required another translator. But God -- she must have known it -- that's the best way to live -- it is to have every moment of your life swallowed in supreme goodness and satisfaction. No wonder I loved her, and no longer do I feel sorry for her -- I envy her. I thought of her today perhaps because when I was around eight or nine I grew aware that she and I shared the same initials "AS." Today is the first day that I am Amanda Monteleone at work, and I have written my initials "AM" dozens of times already. It's strange, but the satisfaction of...

Sprouts

Sprouts Originally uploaded by ladyhildegarde . I am getting sprouts. Hopefully they are carnations. It is such a beautiful spring day. It's good I'm taking the chance to come outside: I have craved a moment to reflect on something beautiful.