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Monday, August 22, 2011

Don't Let Your Soul Get Lonely



"Narrative is not the relating of an event but this event itself, the approach of this event, the place where it is called on to unfold, an event still to come, by the magnetic power of which the narrative itself can hope to come true.  


That is a very delicate relationship, no doubt a kind of extravagance, but it is the secret law of narrative."

~ Maurice Blanchot



August, the summer, winds down and down.  Those of us who are writer-mothers, look toward September 1.  There will be nothing much written until then.  The only thing to do is to organize things so that when it comes there will be no demands, no nagging jobs, things left undone, only space.  And so the garden will be weeded a little, the dark corners of the house dusted.  What will happen next?  What will unfold?  All summer the narrative of my current work, slim though it is, in the back of my head.

My previous work, a novel, I've been calling it though maybe it's more accurately a book, was rejected by one publisher mainly because it lacked narrative.  Nothing much happens in it, this is true.  But this is the way life is, isn't it?  It's mostly in our heads.  I'm not at all interested in plot, though the moment of approaching, unfolding.  That's another thing altogether.


This old chair that we've had forever.  R. bought it long before he met me, at some junk shop.  There are letters and lines carved into the arms.  In the photo below you can see that the arm has come loose. I wanted to take it out of the basement and see what it looked like in the sun.




I don't know why I took this photo.  No idea.  I wanted to get at the strangeness of living in the suburbs.  How nothing seems to happen.  Driving home from the grocery store there was a man walking down the street carrying a pillow in a floral pillow case.  The kind you sleep on.  Under his arm.  Walking very determinedly down the main road, no sign of turning off.  Another day my daughter and I were driving and noticed two young girls walking, but a Mercedes with tinted windows was following them.  And they were talking to someone inside while walking. Then they quit talking and continued walking, more hurriedly, and looking annoyed.  This made us feel uncomfortable.  So we pulled over a couple of blocks ahead and watched.  Eventually they all stopped at a mailbox and were all taking mail out of the box.  The person inside the car appeared to be the mother.

The homeless man riding his bike with four huge, oversized garbage bags, so full, he can't possibly see to ride.  But he does, out of the suburbs on garbage day.  Cans and bottles, and who knows what.

There is a den of coyotes that live in the utility corridor not far behind our house, and on the other side of it is a freeway.  One night lying in bed insanely tired, hot, window open, we heard the coyotes yowling because several sirens went past.  Firetrucks, ambulances.  Quite a few. The next day, walking the dog on the path, I saw a deer running along the tree line in the field that is the utility corridor. This is where the coyotes live, so the walkers of dogs in our neighborhood say.  It seemed to continue on.  I lost sight of it.  All summer long, looking, waiting, noticing.

Trying to be here now.  Not letting my soul get lonely.  My writing soul.

One of my Flickr contacts reminded me of this song.  So lovely.  I keep playing it over and over.




Don't let your mind get weary and confused..
your will be still; don't try.
Don't let your heart get heavy, child;
inside you there's a strength that lies.

Don't let your soul get lonely, child..
it's only time; it will go by.
Don't look for love in faces, places —
it's in you; that's where you'll find kindness.

Be here.. be here now.. be here now..
be.. be here now.. be here now...

Don't lose your faith in me,
and I will try not to lose faith in you.
Don't put your trust in walls,
'cause walls will only crush you when they fall.

Be...be here now... be here now.
Be...be here now...be here now.

1 comment:

  1. "Trying to be here now. Not letting my soul get lonely. My writing soul."

    I love this. The whole post, but this especially.

    ReplyDelete

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