"We do not truly see light, we only see slower things lit by it, so that for us light is on the edge - the last thing we know before things become too swift for us."
- C. S. Lewis
I know I've posted the above quotation before. And actually, I've posted the poem below before as well. But I like to re-read things, am constantly re-reading favourite books, poems, and maybe you like to re-read as well.
The last line makes my heart stop.
Landscape And Soul
Though we should not speak about the soul,
that is, about things we don't know,
I'm sure mine sleeps the day long,
waiting to be jolted, even jilted awake,
preferably by joy, but sadness also comes
by surprise, and the soul sings its songs.
And because no one landscape compels me,
except the one that's always out of reach
(toward which, nightly, I go), I find myself
conjuring Breugel-like peasants cavorting
under a Magritte-like sky - a landscape
the soul, if fully awake, could love as its own.
But the soul is rumored to desire a room,
a chamber, really, in some far away outpost
of the heart. Landscape can be lonely and cold.
Be sweet to me, world.
"Be sweet to me, world."
This is what we hope for ourselves, and for others.
I was thinking about this line in the context of reading Marilynne Robinson's work again. (Last night began re-reading Gilead, after reading Lila, as I talked about in the last post).
And then, here's a thing. At work, a while back I had this idea that it would be cool to have a Humans of New York-like project at my library, because everyday we meet so many interesting people. The Humans of EPL project will appear on social media each Wednesday, and yesterday the first two photographs were posted. Gina and Josh. I happened to take the first two photos, but will be sharing the photographing with my co-worker, Sarah.
The library I work at is an amazing place and I work with so many dedicated and talented and compassionate people. The people that come into the library are constantly surprising and wonderful. So it's just cool to be able to show some of what happens there in this way.
Today's photos. One day at about lunchtime, I looked up from my computer screen where I'd been trying (and rather miserably failing) to work on a freelance article, and, this light. I wandered around the house with the camera, seeing how the sun was easing into the house, now, at this time of year. It reaches in further, somehow, low as it is.
Ace had settled in my study, as I was working, which was more like staring out the window. He doesn't always hang out with me when I'm writing, but he seems to sense when I could use the company. Clever old dog.