Taking no prisoners. Including herself.

said Suzuki Roshi to Natalie Goldberg, on whether she could be both monk and writer. And my heart chooses instantly: writer! writer! artist! exclaimer of emotion into the material world! But then I realize even this profession has to fall away into the sea, and so I answer:

neither. I’ll just be me.

I feel suddenly older–perhaps not so ‘suddenly’, but certainly this last year aged me mightily. This is what happens when we go underground, we subsume our trusted knowledge and get distracted from the real.

This is what happens when we fill our life with bullshit.

The answer is simple: I just need to sit here, every morning, and spill my soul to ‘know-one’, to god, to myself, to this book which collects my longings and struggles only to fall into a timeless pit of blue fire, burning up everything I’ve ever done. Joyous loss! Grieving destiny! Don’t you tell me they are not inexorably linked! I’m going to do my art even if my art is silence.

I’m going to create grand plans of beauty even if my plan is to sit in my PJs and make love to the trees with my eyeballs.

Redwoods, the Lake (my missed lover!), the Taos Mountain, the Sapa canyon, sweet gorge, the coffee shops of Vietnam, the terraces of Turkey, the strange balcony in Spain, hot humid paper–oh! to create new memory.

The Foundry never held any books–this is the real problem, I never write there! How can I be left if I never drop a word? How can I create a home without the stones of language? My life is full of spreadsheets but no poetry. I am not an office worker! Not an arts admin! Not a diplomat! or a mother, organizer, leader, savant! I am a god damn poet and seeker, ever-ever searching the inside cavities of my blood, I elongate with the process, even new words will replace me.

I’m ok with becoming irrelevant as long as I turn my back on the world first. My greatest heart is this heart, and who can wake me up but me? Do not taste me because then there will be investment, and I’m not invested in you. NONE OF THIS IS MINE. I found my love then lost it. I have a relationship but where’s the true relating? a companion does not a soulmate make. The world is my lover, haven’t you learned that already?

The world! The world! The whole world!

§1302 · March 20, 2013 · Freewrites · · [Print]

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