December 2010
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“We are often deceived in love, often hurt, often unhappy. But we love. And with...”
– une femme est une femme
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I bought clothes & underthings in peachy pink, cream, florals, grey, black, and lace. Even saying it makes my heart grow big and rosy.
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The nights are feeling worse and worse — more heart-sore and less hopeful. What can one do when things look awfully bleak?
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for sore hearts at bedtime
Come here, darlin’, I’ll sing you to sleep. Pull the covers up to your chin and draw a circle around your sore heart. There now, no more tears. Close your eyes and think only of the loveliest things.
Chamomile, spearmint, lemon grass, tilia flowers, blackberry leaves, orange blossoms, hawthorn berries, and rosebuds.
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“Love is so short and oblivion so long.”
– Pablo Neruda, Saddest Poem
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the wind is singing storms through the slits in the window, and the songs are getting sadder and sadder, how can i ever pick up the tune of such a heavy voice and lift the choirs of the earth above the canopies again without redwood arms, without mountain lungs, without amazon fingers, without any new words to assure anyone it’ll all be alright? (moonconversations)
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It’s a true white christmas. I woke up to big fat snowflakes falling, a herd of deer in the woods outside my window, and sleepy cuddles with Henry Puggins. For once, waking was more beautiful than the night’s dream. No heart can stay completely frozen like that. Merry Christmas.
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I’m going to spend the day cleaning up, baking, knitting for gifts, & building a model for the girl I am to become.
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Watch
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and all at once in the ruddy reflection of all Earth’s sunrises and sunsets, hundreds of hearts cracked as they suddenly became aware that they were indeed missing someone else.
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The Northern Winter
The sun, moon, & earth are all lined up on the winter solstice for the first time since 1638.
“For 72 minutes of eerie totality, an amber light will play across the snows of North America, throwing landscapes into an unusual state of ruddy shadow.”*
Get out your telescope, sweet darling, it’s a full lunar eclipse & this isn’t something you should miss.
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Today a sweet friend gave me a whole box of Sleepytime tea. Yesterday it was a box of chocolates. The little happinesses kill me in the best way.
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I’ve been sleeping with the curtains open, watched the sun rise through the trees and over the snow. Magic.
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In bed, half asleep, I watch the snow falling outside the window and pretend it’s drifting down to cover me like a soft winter blanket.
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Oh, my heart. It hurts realizing how endearing some of your shortfalls became to me while I wasn’t keeping careful watch. The way you rarely make time to read but love books so dearly! It’s a sweet smile of a groan.
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Splitting open a dream, I woke suddenly in the middle of the night, ran a steaming bath, and began scribbling in my book. Pencil lines & wild loops. I’m inching forward with fear and feverish determination, slowly stretching my soul in ways I didn’t dare before. This is my own crackling crucible; I cry and break and prickle and then blush like a nude with a new small bravery.
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Safe from the cold, rainy night, I baked six dozen cupcakes, built a fire, and curled up to read The Secret History. It was beautiful, I tell you.
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“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than...”
– Anaïs Nin
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You know it well - the dull ache moments after waking when one remembers what one has lost. The blankets are still warm with last night’s kind oblivion and now you alone have to find somewhere in your body to house this new pain.
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Watchfirst snow of the season
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From the Valley to the Stars