a letter about our present day difficulties...
I am having hard time reading your reams…… and I am truly sorry about this. I love it when you are the smartest one in the room…. I love your mind and your pauses, and your thoughtful stance…
So I am annoyed. And I can remember the story you recounted to us,
about a walk
and a sound
up the hills in a random place,
so specific to you that
you heard your named called by God.
Medicine IS Poison…. and sigh, sometimes the old medicine is the new poison.
Indeed, when is it not!
And the old poison becomes the new medicine.
When has this not been true…
take it from the O2/CO2 dance,
the Kreb Cycle and the appearance of what !? chlorophyll!
that the old great magician always has something wonerful up his ol’ sleeve, wha'?!
did your read Martin Prechtel’s book the smell of rain on Dust…. ?!
maybe sitting down,
taking the splinter of bone out of your heal
and wait for that rain
and of course, ’
that smell’,
you know the one:
fecund, sulphuric, then lessening into something almost pleasant, and then lo’ and behold…
what?!
that is right: an new sweetness
Perfume…..
some scent of the cosmos constructed and delivered to you, like the light of the star you can see,
a smell…
like the first morning,
with your mom, and the milk, and all that….
follow that for a while,
study it until you know it like Tuan’s antelope did,
able to differentiate each stream and blend,
you know,
like they say the master vintner
can tell you what side of the hill a grape is grown….
differentiation, laws of attraction and repulsion,
blending, ducking and rolling,
like lava
like a rock
being here now
is just a practice and the emotional stew is just an emotional perfume…. a current in a river
Open the window, drink it in.
Love Jane
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