God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night. These are the words we dimly hear: You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me. Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in. Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going.
Thank you. How encouraging when someone catches a glimpse of what we see, and are willing to sit with us, even if our descriptions don't quite measure up to the fullness of the beauty. What a joy to see you here.
I loved these so much. What a gift to be able to see your world through these. The entry about grasping reminded me of this from Emerson, “I take this evanescence and lubricity of all objects, which lets them slip through our fingers then when we clutch hardest, to be the most unhandsome part of our condition.” It’s in an essay where he is struggling with that exact grasping, and also accepting it at the same time. 💜
I wonder if it must be this way: struggling and accepting at the same time. I can remember reading that essay five-ish years ago, and feeling angry. Ambiguity was not a friend. I remember hoping, maybe desperately, that clarity might just always be just past the next bend in the trail. Maybe the hope is okay, but so, too acceptance when a bend turns out to be just another bend.
Chris I loved this so much. The imagery was so powerful. The Rilke quote “no feeling is final” beautifully set the stage for all of this. ❤️. What a blessing it will be to read this over and over!
The indelible intricacies of your sketchbook spread like a slow mist through my mind and are compelled along the aqueduct to my chest. Your observations open the pores of my senses as the critical quill of my soul furiously scratches its notes.
…a privilege to be let into your world of ponderings, and sketches of your soul’s imagery. Your words offer good gifts of calmness, peace and honesty.
Jill,
Thank you. How encouraging when someone catches a glimpse of what we see, and are willing to sit with us, even if our descriptions don't quite measure up to the fullness of the beauty. What a joy to see you here.
Grateful for you, friend.
I loved these so much. What a gift to be able to see your world through these. The entry about grasping reminded me of this from Emerson, “I take this evanescence and lubricity of all objects, which lets them slip through our fingers then when we clutch hardest, to be the most unhandsome part of our condition.” It’s in an essay where he is struggling with that exact grasping, and also accepting it at the same time. 💜
Thank you, dear friend.
I wonder if it must be this way: struggling and accepting at the same time. I can remember reading that essay five-ish years ago, and feeling angry. Ambiguity was not a friend. I remember hoping, maybe desperately, that clarity might just always be just past the next bend in the trail. Maybe the hope is okay, but so, too acceptance when a bend turns out to be just another bend.
Chris I loved this so much. The imagery was so powerful. The Rilke quote “no feeling is final” beautifully set the stage for all of this. ❤️. What a blessing it will be to read this over and over!
Dear friend,
Your comments lift my soul. Every time. Thank you.
Missing you and the gang.
Much love,
C
The indelible intricacies of your sketchbook spread like a slow mist through my mind and are compelled along the aqueduct to my chest. Your observations open the pores of my senses as the critical quill of my soul furiously scratches its notes.
God toils through your annals, Chris.
Kris,
Your words are a precious gift.
It reminds me that distinction between giver and receiver is non-sensical. When we think we give, we receive.
Thank you, Kris.