Where'd she go?

Where'd she go?
Originally uploaded by Rachel Ariel.

Currently Reading: White Apples by Jonathan Carroll.

Have you ever had a book get into your head so completely that you have moments when you can't remember where you end and the story begins? The last book i really remember that happening with was Someplace to be Flying by Charles deLint. That's one of the books that will come with me whenever i move. It's happened a couple of times, and it's never been a mundane affair.

These are the books that remind me that the world is full of wonder any mystery, and that to spend too much time trying to figure it all out is to detract from the simple truth of it all. The last two weeks have been very painful, and they continue to sleep in my consciousness, waking occassionaly and demanding my thought and analysis for many or few moments.

But from the other side i can see that the wounds have released me. Floodgates i had not realized i had erected have come crashing down. I am writing, i am looking at the art around me and thinking "i can *do* that". i was quietly mistaking apathy for peace, and it took a giant jolt, a paradigm shift, to alert me to the sneaking desperation that dogged my steps.

I can list for you the single moments that have struck this chord in me, but they wouldn't mean for you what they have for me. They are my secret places, and I can't tell why they meant what they did for me when they did. Perhaps if I had caught them at another time they would have been meaningless. In the case of "Here i dreamt i was an architect" that is, in fact, what happened.

True beauty is found in the simple, serendipitous moments.