"...is the disguised urge to return to another room we left but never returned to: the holy precincts of the body that hold what the unanchored mind could never comprehend: the raw vulnerability of our primary, bodily experience and the life that it calls us to."
Speaks so deeply to the death of my child. Thank you for a beautiful poem.
Brilliant.
Amazing how much you connect to soul 🙏🏼
❤️
Beautiful. If only forgetting was more easy!
Yes! Forgetting as a necessary crevice (or chasm!) of fragility in human life — I wrote a book on precisely this possibility, and how Plato was on to something essential about the limits of memory and the written word: https://fordhampress.com/ordinary-oblivion-and-the-self-unmoored-hb-9780823257430.html
thank you
"...is the disguised urge to return to another room we left but never returned to: the holy precincts of the body that hold what the unanchored mind could never comprehend: the raw vulnerability of our primary, bodily experience and the life that it calls us to."
Speaks so deeply to the death of my child. Thank you for a beautiful poem.
Forgetfulness does not permit holding the tension of the opposites.
It does not allow for us to rotate on ourselves.
Forgetfulness is so hungry for its own self, it will fill me up with empty.
Thought this was a beautiful essay. Thank you.
Beautiful ❤️❤️❤️💫