Dear Artist
Dear Artist
Do relationships exist before the relationship itself? They must It all started in nothing you know a pool of undifferentiated matter until a mysterious attraction brought forth all of this... What draft are we? And are these letters i scrawl much different than those particles swimming around in emptiness seeking the right combination to cohere in sacred order? i write when i feel it - a sense of gravity that swirls around beauty like a galaxy or when i see a sheen of water given to winter air tip into feathers radiance splintering along invisible fault lines that traces the fabric… To capture that point of inflection to give it form is to fingerprint the Maker and it’s the moment when we become something more than ourselves So whenever possible, dearest rise in darkness each morning dip your finger into this pool and stir Excite a bioluminescent possibility hidden but for your touch So that we might see it too
Once again, Eric… here I am, still in the morning darkness, listening to the snores around me, reading your fine-tuned words. This time I’m reminded of a book about how analogies are the basis of it all (“Surfaces and Essences: Analogies as the Fuel and Fire of Thinking”), a long read - I admittedly didn’t get through it all - about putting language to the relationship and labeling it, to seal the deal and learn from our experiences.
Your words, however, bring the freedom to enjoy the relationships without words. I’m inspired here in the wee hours, feeling you quietly encouraging my hand toward the pool of potential bioluminescent delight - your visual imagery making me excited to greet the day, stir it up, and see what beauty results.
I dare say, this is what you’ve already done for me here with your words. Stirred up a shimming pool, giving me a brighter anticipation of the day. And I’m not even vertical yet.
Always delighted to read your posts, friend. Thank you for bringing them into being.
Oh Erik, I rise with you in the darkness.
Your words move me deeply.
I have been rereading Annie Dillard's Pilgrim at Tinker Creek in my search for that which helps me to remember the importance of seeing.
You & Annie are swirling together in a relationship of seeing .
To quote her Annie...
Divinity is not playful. The universe was not made in jest but in solemn incomprehensible earnest. By a power that is unfathomably secret, and holy, and fleet. There is nothing to be done about it, but ignore it, or see.