From Plant Dreaming Deep, May Sarton
For alone here, I must first give up the world and all its dear, tantalizing human questions, first close myself away, and then, and only then, open to that other tide, the inner life, the life of solitude, which rises very slowly until, like the anemone, I am open to receive whatever it may bring.
From Plant Dreaming Deep, May Sarton Routine is not a prison, but the way into freedom from time. The apparently measured time has immeasureable space within it, and in this it resembles music.
From Plant Dreaming Deep, May Sarton Finally the wing chair settled into its place by the fire, commanding that whole room. The miracle for me was that all these pieces suddenly looked as if they had always been exactly where they were now.
From Plant Dreaming Deep, May Sarton ...and the little low bench where we all sat as children is there before the fire...waiting for Katrine, who always sat down on it at once, stretching out her long legs, whenever she came to stay. Katrine has died since I came here, so she is one of the presences who come and go at this strange intersection where I do not live in time, but where past and future flow together into the present as gently as the currents of air that sometimes make the curtains stir as if a hand just touched them.
From Plant Dreaming Deep, May Sarton I had not heard an oriole since I was a child; in my agitated state these notes fell with an extraordinary resonance. I felt reassured. It seemed, in fact, like a sign. And then, as if woven through the song, I heard the silence. Each time I come back here the same miracle happens. I bring the world with me, but at a certain moment the world falls away and I am inside the life-restoring silence.
From Plant Dreaming Deep, May Sarton |
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