Monday, April 1, 2013

to shine without dread

Today, among other things, April Fool's day for example, is also the last day of my week off from the library. I had so many goals, but of course only achieved a few of them. This is fine. The house will be scoured at some point during the day so that I'll be left with more writing time this week. The life of a writer is glamorous like that.

It felt like the light truly came back this weekend, or that we were all sitting around the kitchen table noticing it together.

Began listening to this song. (The refrain sticking in my head all weekend).

I bought some tulips for my mom at the beginning of the weekend, and also some for myself. I finally sent out (in a concerted fashion) my small novel about the young woman obsessed with the Museum of Bags and Purses in Amsterdam. It's been with a couple of publishers, but I know from experience not to hope too much for any one possibility. Ridiculous how much courage it takes to place pages in an envelope and seal them. Because look at all the rejections I've set myself up for. The novel, which is titled -  I.s. - after the character Ingrid-Simone (she signs her initials, I.s.)  begins with these two epigraphs:

“I too am: is.”

            ~ Clarice Lispector, A Breath of Life

“Even mountains hang on strings. The ‘isness’ of things is miraculous: that there is something rather than nothing.”

            ~ John O’Donohue

The epigraphs, somehow also give me a bit of courage. A bit of hope.

After packaging up all the envelopes, I re-read this poem by the Scandinavian poet, Edith Södergran (you can read more about her here). And her book is on my recommended shelf above.

 (What do I fear?)

Triumph of Existing

by Edith Södergran

What do I fear? I am a part of infinity.
I am a portion of a cosmic force,
a separate world within a million worlds,
a star  of the first magnitude, the last to die.
The triumph of the living, the triumph of the breathing,
                                        the triumph of the existing!
The triumph of feeling time flow, glacial, through my veins,
and hear the silent stream of night
and stand atop a mountain in the sun.
I walk on sun, I stand on sun,
I know nothing but the sun.
Time — transformer, time — destroyer,
                                        time — enchanter,
do you come with new intrigues, a thousand
                                        schemes, to offer me a life
as a little seed, as a coiled serpent, as a rock
                                        out in the sea?
Time — you murderer — begone from me!
The sun fills up my breast with lovely honey to
                                        the brim
and she says: some day, all stars are bound to die,
                                        yet they always shine without dread.


  1. Lovely, lovely, lovely...all the way through. What a gift you are to us!

  2. The light is beautiful in these. Inspiring and hopeful.

  3. Very cool - I.s.
    And oh, those pears!


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