The Work of the East ...

I was just gifted with a beautiful poem, a private poem about the sea, which pushed the ache away for a few minutes, which is all one can really ask for.  Before I was gifted with the poem, I was reading about the letters of Emily Dickinson, and thinking about silence, which I need to learn to embrace again.

In all of my new bios, I say that Icarus is a writer, photographer, musician, shaman and chaos magician.  Though I do write in here every day, it's not the same as WRITING.  For me, writing has always meant silence and solitude, two old friends I am not currently getting on with.  All of my good poems come from that quiet.

I am stating the intention that on my pilgrimage, in addition to the music I will make and the photos I will take, I will create time for that silence, to become a WRITER again.  Maybe I'll bring back the three line poems.  Maybe I'll write a completely different autobiographical book about transformation than the one I think I am writing.  I don't know.

But sitting here on the floor, listening to K.D Lang, looking at the spines of all the books on my shelves, I feel something stirring, something that's telling me to do the work of the East, to make something useful of all this pain.  All the great poets have done so.  If I wish to be great, I suppose I should try.

I saw The Muse at work this morning, for the first time since her final rejection on Monday.  The pain and fear in her eyes hasn't gone anywhere, and it just keeps breaking my heart.  I simply can't take seeing her anymore.  She graduates in three weeks, I leave in six, and that will be that.  Obviously that's not what I want, but it's just so destructive at this point ...

(On a lighter note, speaking of destructive, we went to see Thor this evening, which was great fun, as all Marvel movies are.  Loki, in particular, stood out as being particularly compelling and realistic, from a certain perspective.  Huzzah for Kenneth Branagh, for taking the material seriously.  Makes me glad to be a comic fan.)

Alright.  Enough for one day.  Good night.