I think you could fall in love with anyone if you saw the parts of them no one else gets to see. Like if you followed them around invisibly for a day and saw them crying in their bed at night or singing in the shower or humming quietly to themselves as they make a sandwich or even just walking along the street. And even if they were really weird and had no friends at school, I think, after seeing them at their most vulnerable, you wouldn’t be able to help falling in love with them.
It was the eve of the Winter Solstice and my sisters and I were getting ready for the celebrations. We had spent all day decorating and baking and singing carols as loudly as we could. My older sister Winter, named after our mother, was…
“Although we read with our minds, the seat of artistic delight is between the shoulder blades. That little shiver behind is quite certainly the highest form of emotion that humanity has attained when evolving pure art and pure science. Let us worship the spine and its tingle.”—Vladimir Nabokov (via talisman)
I used to be afraid of myself, there were so many of me, but I’m learning how to integrate, not with others as I’ve done previously by nature, but with myself. As a result I am finding more harmony without as well as within.
I know that sounds vague, but it’s more revealing than telling you I’m an amateur photographer, that I’m kind and compassionate on good days, and on other days I’m detached and at one with the Universe. Or that when I was in grade school I wanted to be an astronomer, and in high school, an artist. Now it’s a tossup between being a quantum physicist, a caretaker of pandas, or an author. This is because I have no musical talent, but I love music and can’t live without it.
I also love nature, but then don’t we all? I always feel connected to it, whereas when it comes to the inexplicable ways of man I am often at a loss as to where I fit in, yet I know this; we are all basically the same when we peel back our layers of protective clothing. And we are all family.
I like to know what makes people tick, for in spite of what binds us we are all unique. I like to make connections with my fellow inhabitants that go beyond the superficial. I find this challenging. I communicate best through writing.
I believe in caring for our Universal home, and each other, as well as earth’s more charming inhabitants, the animals, as though we’ve been given a priceless gift. I often fail in this respect, but it’s what I strive for.
As far as I’m concerned there is nothing more mysterious and fascinating than truth and reality. I find fantasy enjoyable and indulge in it regularly, as well as blur the lines between the two, but nothing is more awe-inspiring to me than the way things really are.
Sometimes I think something’s wrong with me because, usually, I would rather be alone with my paper and pencils, my books and music, my candles and cat. The truth is, I like it this way, this life I live between words, the letters I carefully string together only to unstring, and begin again.
So, the cosmonaut. He’s the first man ever to go into space, right? The Russians beat the Americans. So he goes up in this big space ship, but the only habitable part of it’s very small.
So the cosmonaut’s in there, and he’s got this portal window, and he’s looking out of it, and he sees the curvature of the earth… for the first time. The first man to ever look at the planet he’s from! And he’s lost in that moment.
And all of a sudden, this strange ticking begins coming out of the dashboard. He rips out the control panel, right? Takes out his tools, trying to find this sound — trying to stop this sound. But he can’t find it, he can’t stop it. It keeps going. A few hours into this begins to feel like torture. A few days go by with this sound and he knows that this small sound will break him. He’ll lose his mind. What’s he gonna do? He’s up in space! Alone! In a space closet! He’s got twenty-five days left to go with this sound.
So, the cosmonaut decides the only way to save his sanity is to fall in love with this sound. So, he closes his eyes and he goes into his imagination. And when he opens them, he doesn’t hear ticking anymore. He hears music. And he spends the remainder of his time sailing through space in total bliss and peace.
”—Rhoda Williams (Brit Marling), Another Earth (via nojethro)