Thursday, May 28, 2015
I still feel inspired by the fire and the wind. I am so enjoying this rare red that comes but once a year to the altar. As I consider the long long season of ordinary time that approaches, I am thinking the lines: "Green, green rocky road. You promenade in green." from the old folk song. How pretty is a promenade? How rocky the path can still seem.
Posted by jillyg at 9:32 AM
Tuesday, May 19, 2015
Morning at New Camaldoli at the chapel.
Golden hour at New Camaldoli.
I wrote, I slept and I read All the Light We Cannot See in it's entirety. A good 5 days of nature and words and s'mores.
I don't remember ever going to Big Sur before, ever going further south than Point Lobos, and it was so beautiful and vaguely nerve wracking to be so high up, so close to all the edges. It was a funny little place. I thought the people there seemed so young. Which was weird. I think I expected men with long white beards and ladies in long crinkle skirts? All in all, it had a good vibe. But one that felt kind of exclusive? Or maybe just protected? It made me want to read some Kerouac and remember what it was all about then. Something is definitely still in the air, there.
I felt lucky, thinking about California and loving this place and living in this place. It was peculiar, driving home I was remembering my childhood here and how the landscape, the random bridges, the weather, the font on the roadsigns, all of it feels like part of my own self.
Posted by jillyg at 9:41 AM
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Soaking it up, baby. Sabbatically speaking.
Another Sabbatical Poem, this one is from February, still rough though:
Sabbath/Storm and White Birds
We stared west and watched it,
standing on the sidewalk, the wind raking over us.
The seagulls hovered,
glowing white against that grey curtain.
It was stunning.
I stood with my hand shading my eyes, like I was staring toward the sun.
It never even rained that day and it was still coming in on Sunday when I sat in the wooden chair out back looking straight up this time watching the clouds.
Masses and masses of grey and white all moving quickly north.
The gulls were letting themselves drop and rise with the wind. Just freewheeling it.
I remembered him saying: “I think I actually have a pretty good idea of what flying would be like. I think my dreams are so vivid that I know what it would be like if I could fly.”
“So do I”, I said. “So does everyone. Everyone has those dreams, so we can all imagine it.”
We all have a pretty good idea of what it would be like. I can imagine it without much effort, almost like I’m remembering doing it.
So I just closed my eyes and the storm that was coming kept on coming until it passed us by, but I imagined what it would be like if it actually did storm and it was almost like remembering it.
Posted by jillyg at 2:03 PM