Scribbled on the back of a Palomino waitress schedule while in Greg's car listening to NPR, maybe six months ago:
"Religion is for people who are afraid of going to Hell. Sprituality is for those who have been there.
Analogy - driving @ night - can't see far ahead, but make whole journey that way."
Found: Two greeting cards stacked chronologically appropriately next to each other, one reading "With Sympathy in the Loss of Your Father," the other, "Best Wishes to the New Mother." I remember both of those cards arriving in my mailbox on the same day.
A photo album from a wedding that now almost seems like it never really happened.
A Rumi poem tucked inside an Irish calendar detailing every hair appointment and milestone for the year 2004.
Pictures of me with really bad hair and looking like I'm one Budweiser away from the trailer park, making me question once again, Why didn't anyone TELL me I looked like that? You people are lucky I don't have a scanner.
And damn I look good now. :)
Today, how many hours are falling
into the well, into the net, into time:
they go slowly but never stopped to rest,
they keep on falling, swarming together
at first like fish,
then like falling bottles or stones.
There below the hours come
to agree with the days,
with the months,
with blurred memories,
with uninhabited nights,
clothes, women, trains, provinces,
and time collects,
hour upon hour
dissolves in silence,
crumbles and falls
into the acid of all ruins,
into the black water
of the inverted night.
- Pablo Neruda
Posted by stephanie at July 22, 2005 10:45 AM