How do you know a full moon is nearing? The cat is out all night and I am up at 4:30. Wrote for about an hour and half. The actual physical process of writing in a notebook reminds me that writing is a sensual engagement. I write better when my hand is stained with ink. I should have been a painter. I need to push and glob my materials, form them into something. Scratch them out, draw arrows, circles, run out of room. I become impatient when writing directly on the computer, there is little gestation. Regard is lost. Capacity seems limitless. Limits create freedom.

I've dropped off the planet with correspondences, be patient with me.

This quote by Roethke from the quotes portion of Catherine Meng's blog, "Those who are willing to be vulnerable move among mysteries." Yes.

Trying to manifest an active passivity. This is very difficult for me. Life is trying even with all its wonder.

Lots of longer walks lately. Seeking to get myself out of my head and into my body and thus back into my head integrated. Huh? To remind myself that the brain is a muscle and to return to materials that renew, i.e. nature. Francis Bacon said that flowers are beautiful because they die. Trees are even more beautiful because they die several times.

OK lack of sleep among other things has made me decidely philosophical this morning. I'd like to continue some of these ideas at a later date. I'm off to work.


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