My evening has begun
(click on the title to hear the audioblog version)
The moment one gives close attention to anything,
even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome,
indescribably magnificent world in itself.--Henry Miller
I took my Wednesday night bath tonight, filling the tub with water so hot my skin turned red. I performed my ablution rituals, my mind clear of all thought, my hedonist self enjoying the scent of the water and the feel of oil on my skin. Perhaps I stayed in too long. Perhaps the water was too warm. When I rose from the tub I was overheated and dizzy, so I slipped into my robe and stepped out onto the patio.
And now, in this moment, it is raining. It is a soft summer rain, a bit heavier than a mist, but still fine. The air is so cool, so clean, so sweet, so pure, that when I inhale it something in me swoons from the headiness of it. The sky is gray, but it is more than gray, it is layer upon layer of shades of gray. The golf course glistens, the bamboo shivers, and mist beings swirl by. I am in a land between worlds, in that inexplicable meditative no-place that all who have experienced it recognize but cannot find words for. It is nuanced and numinous, the root of shadow, of light and dark. I am in this moment, I am in this place where all things are and are not yet, where shadows have substance and that substance is sheer as mist. The soil is rich. I can smell it, the new soil I added to the flowerbed. The astilbe are open, their feathery fronds dancing and dodging in the misty rain. I reach out to touch the fairy-shape of a fushia bloom and am transfixed by its colour, so intense in this grey-green moment. The birds are singing. I do not remember hearing them earlier, before the rain began. And with the thought of 'before' my awareness of the moment changes, and time reasserts itself. My mind, once cleared of thoughts, now resurrects from memory a dozen things for me to ponder. But I remember the long-awaited book that arrived in the mail yesterday, Jared Diamond's Collapse. I think I'll read that, instead of thinking. My evening at home has begun.
The moment one gives close attention to anything,
even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome,
indescribably magnificent world in itself.--Henry Miller
I took my Wednesday night bath tonight, filling the tub with water so hot my skin turned red. I performed my ablution rituals, my mind clear of all thought, my hedonist self enjoying the scent of the water and the feel of oil on my skin. Perhaps I stayed in too long. Perhaps the water was too warm. When I rose from the tub I was overheated and dizzy, so I slipped into my robe and stepped out onto the patio.
And now, in this moment, it is raining. It is a soft summer rain, a bit heavier than a mist, but still fine. The air is so cool, so clean, so sweet, so pure, that when I inhale it something in me swoons from the headiness of it. The sky is gray, but it is more than gray, it is layer upon layer of shades of gray. The golf course glistens, the bamboo shivers, and mist beings swirl by. I am in a land between worlds, in that inexplicable meditative no-place that all who have experienced it recognize but cannot find words for. It is nuanced and numinous, the root of shadow, of light and dark. I am in this moment, I am in this place where all things are and are not yet, where shadows have substance and that substance is sheer as mist. The soil is rich. I can smell it, the new soil I added to the flowerbed. The astilbe are open, their feathery fronds dancing and dodging in the misty rain. I reach out to touch the fairy-shape of a fushia bloom and am transfixed by its colour, so intense in this grey-green moment. The birds are singing. I do not remember hearing them earlier, before the rain began. And with the thought of 'before' my awareness of the moment changes, and time reasserts itself. My mind, once cleared of thoughts, now resurrects from memory a dozen things for me to ponder. But I remember the long-awaited book that arrived in the mail yesterday, Jared Diamond's Collapse. I think I'll read that, instead of thinking. My evening at home has begun.
posted by KR | 6/16/2005 08:15:00 PM
2 Comments:
All that's missing is a big ol' pitcher of Sam Adams. Oh, and a fat spliff.
Kelly, you have to be careful!!!If the bathwater is too hot, your skin might end up a permanent red !!!That's what happens when you boil lobsters !!! Please do be careful!!:)
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