How easily we might fall back into old rhythms, if left still for too long. This seems the punishment of friendships left behind, somehow they can't ever catch up again to the vigor of what exists. But then there are the special ones that continue to evolve, where the very nature of interaction is exploration and curiosity. Where, in simultaneous growing, each person continues to discover something new about the other. Nor do I think this feeling is circumscribed to just friendships; it also shapes our relationships with family and relatives.
Tomorrow works begins again, with all its challenges and successes. I feel somehow more unsettled than I did when it began. I know this feeling; it the precursor to a decision that I'll use to redirect my life. But what...
I recently read a book review for Susan Sontag's "Reborn, Journals & Notebooks.." in Time Magazine. In that review, Sontag is quoted as having written "Let go Let go Let Really go." It was her way of showing how she was too tied to plans and specifics to be able to just follow her daydreams. It is, or course, the rare person who is as driven by constant activity as Sontag was, but her works embody what I have always longed for, and never been able to produce.
If I could, for some time, let go of all my planning and just "let things happen" as Erzhe says, I wonder what I would discover? Or would I sabotage myself by impugning my own ways, distrusting the future? I fear, too, the extremity of the other side; where plans and ideas are only that, and I shall do nothing but plan for a life that is passing me by. Annie Dillard wrote once about learning to split wood - poorly done, it took three times as long, during which time Dillard would warm herself up. Later, she had a dream, which told her to aim at the chopping block. "It is true," she writes, "you cannot do the job cleanly unless you treat the wood as the transparent means to an end, by aiming past it. But then, alas, you easily split your day's wood in a few minutes, in the freezing cold, without working up any heat; then you utterly forfeit your only chance of getting warm."
Well my meal is over, so I'll head to bed with Wallace Stegner essays and my restlessness. Till later..