Have you ever been in that thin realm between consciousness and sleep and all sorts of weird thoughts and images go through your head? And sometimes it seems so profound that you think yourself a genius? Well I was in that state a few days ago and a phrase popped into my head and it seemed so important that I in my groggy state found a pen and a piece of paper and wrote it down. When I woke up the next morning the barely legible phrase that slanted across the sheet of paper was...garlic sapphire. Hardly profound.
That night I had a great dream where I met this dreamy guy who seemed to good to be true(It turns out he was). For some reason I stood him up and though he was upset he forgave me of course. I guess, I was just that hot. When I awoke and found myself back in the real world I of course was a little disappointed. Reality is a little different. In fact, life is a little like garlic sapphire. A thing of absolute beauty that somehow leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Okay, maybe it's a stretch but it may partially explain what I've been feeling. I've described this time as my Golden Age, sometimes I'm amazed at how things seem to be falling together. At the same time it's all I can do to keep myself from falling apart.
Lately, I've felt like this fortress that's under constant attack by the most powerful enemy and yet greatest ally of all, life. And while some might simply say “that's life” it's hard not to get discouraged. I know that life is a little bit like weightlifting. Those who have it too easy aren't going to get any stronger but can you have it too hard? And is right to complain over my trivial stuff when the world knows so much suffering? In the final analysis those things that have me so upset now won't even register.
Life is good but sometimes you get tears in your eyes and you aren't sure whether it's for all the good stuff or all the bad...maybe I should call it onion sapphire. No matter what we call it I guess we have no choice but to hold on...hopefully take a breath mint and go along for the ride.
2 comments:
Garlic and sapphires in the mud
Clot the bedded axle-tree.
The thrilling wire in the blood
Sings below inveterate scars
Appeasing long forgotten wars.
The dance along the artery
The circulation of the lymph
Are figured in the drift of stars
Ascend to summer in the tree
We move above the moving tree
In light upon the figured leaf
And hear upon the sodden floor
Below, the boarhound and the boar
Pursue their pattern as before
But reconciled among the stars.
TS Eliot, Burnt Norton
It's "trilling wire," I think.
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