August 10, 2017

a quiet kind of beauty



My day began with dark and rain. As the light progressed, slow as a piece of old French furniture music, I became sadder and sadder. I love these early hours. I never thought I would, I am a night-hearted woman and even until last week I was determined to dislike the morning. But I've come to know its intimacy, privacy, gentleness, poetry. I appreciate it so much now, but in a rather melancholic way, for its beauty is ephemeral, and I know what comes next is the bright day.

It's not that I don't want the sun. It's that the sunlit world is often exhausting. The clamour of people and their traffic. The requirements. The prose. I would like to think that, if all the day was grey and green like its first hour, people would go about more softly, and converse in old quotes and wayward translations from fragmented antique books, be more thoughtful and caring. But that's entirely wrong. People would very quickly spoil my sense of beauty. Because of course there are thousands of ideas about beauty, and almost all of them more vivacious than mine.



etre dans la lune
trans. be in the moon
head in the clouds, in a world of your own

someone recently suggested that the aesthetic changes I make here are seasonal ... perhaps, but not the regular four. my season at the moment is lingering cold, and rain, and frangible skies that are strangely illuminated at night to the north, but bruised and sombre southward. I've nothing in me these days that resonates with knitting the wind, but won't move to a new url for practical reasons.



2 comments:

  1. This is EXACTLY why I rise early - you always have the words I do not :) Dawn and dusk are poetry time, daytime is often exhausting as you describe.
    Daughter is discoverng the joys of rising early (her summer job is the breakfast shift at a local hotel). She told me the other day she now knows why I get up before 5am - 'time moves slower, the light is softer'...
    Indeed :)

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  2. dawn and dusk are such tender times to me that i'm always vaguely surprised that people are expected to be doing anything during them... that they must rush about, stumbling to bus stops in the half-light, sitting in cars amongst traffic and dull buildings whilst all that glory is going on. twice a day, nature invites us to sit quietly and enlarge our souls, and instead we have created a world in which many of us have no time nor peace in which to do it! it grieves me, possibly more than it grieves most of the people who must keep to these schedules...

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